


Kindred Shades

by riverrunning



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Burning to death, Curses, Dean is a Little Shit, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Manipulative Relationship, Mental Instability, Mild Blood, Minotaur - Freeform, Multi, Oracles, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Does Not Understand, Slow Burn, Smut, Sweet Dean Winchester, Vivid descriptions of death, burned at stake, graphic discussion of suicide, homebrew monster, numb sex, poor communication skills, trigger warning, use your words people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverrunning/pseuds/riverrunning
Summary: "Where am I? Fled is the kindly light, deep darkness blinds my eyes, and the sky, buried in gloom, is hidden away. But see! with double sun the day gleams forth, and double Argos lifts up twin palaces...Why do ye summon me, saved only of my house, my kindred shades? Thee do I follow." - Cassandra in Agamemnon, by SenecaWhen Dean meets a crazy homeless girl on the side of the road, he has no idea the impact she will have on him and his brother. Entering a centuries-long war between the gods, and between gods and humans, the brothers will have to face their own prejudices and weaknesses. Can Andi and her long-suffering soothe the perennial Winchester angst? Or will the war in her wake drive them further apart than ever?





	1. Wandering Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but after the elections in the US, my home country, I decided to start putting it on paper to relieve my massive amounts of angst. My first story on here! Hope you enjoy. (Also, if you're a praying sort, send up a prayer for us.)

**CLANG CLANG**

 

The end-of-day bell rang loudly across the orchard, aided by the loudspeaker. Much has changed in 3000 years, Andi couldn’t help but think as she straightened up and surveyed her remaining row. ‘Halfway done with this one, the others can wait until tomorrow,’ she groaned, arching her back into her sore muscles and rubbing her shoulders. Almost done. She sighed, picked up her ladder, and made her way over to the next apple tree.

 

Half an hour later, with the warm satisfaction of having completed a day’s worth of hard work, she made her way back towards the main barn. The fall evening sun began it’s dip below the surrounding trees, golden rays catching the just-beginning-to-turn leaves of the orchard and casting a red-orange glow around her feet. Andi closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp air of the Michigan farm, rich with the smell of coming frost and soon-to-be cider. ‘Fall is my favorite season,’ she thought. Of course, she said that about whatever season she currently found herself in, but fall held something special. She stood with her eyes closed for a moment longer, reveling in the respite from the flashes of voices and images that came whenever she was around other people. A raven caw from a nearby tree startled her from her reverie. “Come on, Andi, clock out.” she groaned, goading herself back to the barn to return her equipment and wrap up the day.

 

Not many other hands were left out on the field at this late hour, just as she had hoped. Most of them were eager to get home; fall harvest was an exhausting, back-breaking time of year for seasonal workers like herself. Andi was all too happy to stay late, if it kept her safe from the inevitable headache of social interaction, both literal and figurative. Even so, this evening she felt on edge, a familiar itch at the base of her skull alerting her to impending danger. She paused, looking for stragglers. There - a figure strolling lazily back towards her from the barn. Frickin’ Jason. As if she didn’t have to put up with him enough as it is: his lewd remarks, his not-so-subtle staring, his roaming hands. She had known men like him for her entire life, men who believed they owned everything they saw. She redoubled her stride and arced toward the main barn door, silently cursing the awkward ladder that slowed her movement and filled her hands. Eyes down, ears listening intently, she heard his footsteps coming nearer.

 

The inevitable flash came: she saw Jason laying on the cold, grassy ground, glassy eyes gazing sightless at the sky, a pool of blood under his back slowly advancing towards his ears. Familiar laughter bounced around the inside of her skull; Andi automatically pressed her four left fingers against her thumb - tactile centering to bring her back to the present.

 

“Andi! Wait up, girl!”

 

“Jason, this isn’t going to end well for you.” she replied, keeping her voice even.

 

“Aww, come on, is that any way to talk to someone like me? I just wanna talk to ya! Ya know, I was watching you today. You sure do have a way of moving up and down that ladder. Makes a man wonder what else you’d be good at climbing, if you get me.”

 

Andi rolled her eyes as she turned around. “I’m not interested, Jason.”

 

“Oh come on, baby, ya don’t know what you’re missin!” he stepped forward into her space. “Give it a try. I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

 

“I’m going to give you one last chance, and pretend I didn’t hear that.” Andi stepped away, heading again to the barn door.

 

“Oh no you don’t.” he said, grabbing onto the ladder she held. “You see, you don’t really get to shimmy around the field like that and not expect a man like me not to do something about it.” He gave the ladder a yank, pulling Andi off balance, almost knocking her to the ground. Apples came spilling out of the basket on her back, bouncing and rolling over the grass.

 

Andi leaned into the pull, letting the ladder fly from her grasp and clatter to the ground. “Jason, what the heck?” she cried out, putting a false tremolo into her voice. Crouching down and taking off her basket as if to begin collecting the fallen apples, she looked up at him, making her eyes as wide and innocent as she could in order to keep his attention on her face, not her hand. “What did you do that for?” She slipped the tips of her fingers into her boot, surreptitiously pulling out her slender boot knife from its sheath and turning it out of sight behind her arm.

 

“Oh baby, I’m just trying to show you what ya do to me.” he leered down at her, pushing her shoulders back into the dirt.

 

Andi let it happen, keeping her eyes wide and trying to look at scared as possible.

 

It all happened quickly, like it had every time before. Well, almost every time. Jason shifted his weight on top of her, keeping his leering eyes on her face. As soon as his back was exposed and in range, Andi moved her hand with a lightning speed that betrayed her years of experience, plunging her knife into his back just below his rib cage, expertly angling the long blade upwards to pierce his stomach.

 

“Oh no.” she said dryly, “you’ve got me.” Throwing all of her harvest-earned muscles into a sideways thrust, she drew her knife between two vertebrae, severing sinew and spinal cord in one smooth motion.

 

Jason’s eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. His mouth open in a frozen silent cry, he twitched as the life began to ebb out of him.

 

“I told you this wouldn’t end well for you.” Andi reminded him, withdrawing her knife and pushing his body off of hers with a strength that would have surprised Jason if every remaining live nerve in his body hadn’t been screaming in his ears. “But they never listen. Nobody ever listens.” She crouched over his form, watching his eyes jump back and forth in futile desperation. “Poor, stupid bastard. Let me make this a bit easier on you, though I doubt you appreciate the gesture. Much less deserve it.” She drew the knife across his throat, opening it to the fall breeze. A single breathy gurgle came from the new wound, and his body lay still.

 

Andi’s headache faded, and she pulled herself back. Her heart was racing, and a familiar mixture of regret, grief, anger, guilt, and fear raged through her system. “Damn it, Jason.” she muttered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. ‘Deep breaths, Andi. Deep breaths. You’re ok. It’s over. Breathe.’

 

As clarity returned, she felt the warm stickiness on her forehead and in her hair. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, looking down at her bloody fingers and the thick, wine colored stain on her brown t-shirt and jacket. Quickly she looked around, constructing a plan of action. There, a spigot on the side of the barn. She probably had about fifteen minutes before the harvest supervisor came out to the barn to collect the time cards. Then, if he noticed the body immediately, half an hour for the cops to arrive from town. By then she could be at her campsite, ready to hitchhike to the next city over, where there was a bus depot. ‘Go.’

 

She sprinted over to the spigot and dropped her knife, opening the tap and spilling frigid water over her fingers, watching the blood peel away from her skin. She grabbed a few handfuls of water, dumping it over the handle of the spigot to wash away the smear her hands had left before grabbing her knife and rinsing that too. Deftly drying it on the grass, she tucked it back into her sheath, pushed herself smoothly from the dirt, and launched into an all-out run into the nearby woods, carefully putting the barn and apple trees between her and the other farm buildings to avoid being spotted. 

Startled, the raven took off, following her trail away from the orchard. 

 

Weaving in and out of the trees, planting her feet firmly as she nimbly leapt over roots and hollows, she tracked herself on the map in her head. ‘When the farm is out of sight, head left, cross the road, and you’ll be set. Five minutes to change, leave the bloody clothes there. They will know it’s you anyway. Then off to the highway. Wait until the cops pass, flag down a car heading towards the city. Buy the next ticket for the next bus, and you’re home free. What’s one more move?’ she said to herself.

 

An hour later, she was at the ticket window, handing over more than $200 of her hard-earned cash. The hit hurt - that was almost all she had left of last week’s earnings. Seasonal work didn’t pay much, and it paid less if you asked the supervisors to not ask questions. That was the price of not leaving a trail. In the end it was worth it; she made enough in the summers and falls to grab a motel room when it rained and a bus ticket down south for the winter, where she cleaned houses and washed dishes until the snow had melted and she could return to the less-populated north. As long as she kept moving, nobody took much notice of her.

 

“One ticket to Austin, TX. Here ya go, bus leavin’ in seven minutes. Glad ya got here when ya did, ya know?” the old man behind the counter smiled at her, rheumy eyes watering.

 

Andi forced herself to smile back in that cheerful way midwesterners had. “Me too!” She said brightly, moving away from the counter before he could say anything else. She grabbed her duffel with its one remaining clean change of clothes, thick blanket, tent, and a day's worth of canned goods. Tomorrow was supposed to have been grocery day. Sighing, she handed her duffel over to the attendant and climbed onto the bus. Thankfully, there weren’t many people on it - a late bus on a weekday. She chose a seat in the middle, several rows away from her nearest fellow traveller, and leaned back in the chair. Visions, meaningless without context, danced in her head; names of strangers, terrified voices, sobbing faces, the stuttering final breaths of elders dying alone in their beds filled her mind unbidden. Andi steadied her breath, and sang quietly to herself as she waited again for the visions to pass. She tapped her fingers on her temples and rocked back and forth gently, unaware of the sideways glances the other passengers levelled at her.

 

Soon they were on the road, and each passenger settled themselves into the long sleep of the overnight drive.

 

_Andi walked through familiar stone hallways, feeling every seam and divot of the pavers through her thin slippers as she approached her lady’s chamber. She knocked firmly on the wooden door._

 

_“Isa? My lady? Are you ready to dress?” to Andi’s surprise, the only response was the same light, manic giggling. Confused and worried, Andi rattled the door handle, but it was still latched. “Lady Isabella? My lady? Isa! Unlatch the door!”_

 

_The giggling continued, drifting in and out of song. The door wouldn’t budge._

 

_Fear grew heavy in Andi’s stomach. Was she too late? It wasn’t supposed to happen until after Isabella’s wedding, still a week away. What had changed? “Isa! Isa! Please, Isa, open the door! It’s me! It’s Cassandra! Please let me in!” she pounded desperately on the unyielding wood. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened, revealing a slight girl in her late teens, dark hair spilling around her shoulders and blood soaking the front of her shift._

 

_“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves like love I long forgot…’ chanted Isabella nonsensically, swaying on her feet._

 

_“Oh, Isa…” Andi groaned, looking over Isa’s shoulder at the slumped body of the duke on the bed, his blood spilling over the covers onto the stone floor. She reached out and gathered her friend in her arms, disregarding the blood that now soaked into her dress as well. “I should have been with you. I was supposed to be with you! I’m so sorry Isa, I’m so sorry! I thought I could spare you!”_

 

Andi woke in a start to find that it was morning, and the bus was pulling into a Chicago station. Shaking off the bad dream, she smiled up at the tall buildings. “Hello, old friend.” she whispered to the city as she switched buses, steeling herself for several more hours on the road.

 

She stayed on the bus route for the rest of the day, eventually disembarking at a random Missouri border town with the larger crowd, who were all desperate for some dinner. It was too easy to convince the weary bus driver to let her get her bag from the cargo hold under the pretext of retrieving her wallet and then, as he made a beeline for the bathroom, close the hold and sneak behind a nearby building. She waited almost an hour for the bus to leave, but after it finally did she slung her bag across her shoulder and made her way to the highway.

 

Two days of empty hitchhiking later, the warning prickle at the base of her neck had finally begun to fade, signalling that she had sufficiently covered her trail. She thanked her driver and looked around at the new middle-of-nowhere town in which she had found herself. “Lebanon, Kansas. Well, let’s see how this goes.”

 

She walked down the worn road, looking around at the sparse trees and rundown buildings. Finally she spotted a market with a few dumpsters out back, cardboard boxes piled haphazardly around them. She ducked into the alley, ripping off a piece of cardboard and scratching a message onto the makeshift sign: Starving, Will Work for Food.

 

Grabbing an empty paper coffee cup, she positioned herself on the street corner, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, trying to look as sad and scared as possible. Though she would never admit it to anyone, much less herself, she didn’t have to dig far to reach those feelings. Her vagrant lifestyle was lonely and terrifying - no matter how used to it she got, or how much she hardened her heart and steeled her nerves, her private ghosts came out to play most nights when the air was cold and the whiskey weak.

 

Few people passed her, even fewer stopped to drop change in her cup. Nobody spoke to her. Occasionally she would get a whiff of a vision - the usual petty griefs of an unfulfilling, boring, apple pie life: divorces, family members passing, car accidents, peaceful death after peaceful death. ‘Disgusting, vapid, and meaningless’ she muttered to herself. But gods, if it wasn’t all she wanted, even after all this time. A quiet life, maybe with her own farm...but it never worked. People always found her, asked questions, tried to know her, and before long feared and hated her, hurt her, drove her away.

 

Andi rocked back and forth, pressing her left fingers into her thumb again, breathing deeply. She glanced up as a tall, dusty-brown haired man in a suit walked by, curiously glancing back at her. He kept walking towards the market, then paused, seemed to think better of it, and walked back towards her corner, pulling a couple bills out of his wallet.

 

“Keep the change.” he quipped with a rakish smile as he stooped to tuck them into her cup.  
As he bent down, she was suddenly hit with a nauseating wave of visions: screaming, black eyes, demon smoke, ghosts, terrified strangers, a brother’s worried face, and finally two brilliant green eyes, weary, surrounded by deep wrinkles, staring defiantly at a foggy attacker as the life faded slowly from them. Through all of it, one name pounded bright as liquid steel into her mind. She gasped for air as the vision dropped her suddenly, and she turned towards the man walking jauntily to the market’s front door.

 

“Dean Winchester, I presume” she said as she stood, letting her hood fall back from her face. “It’s been decades since I’ve met someone with a future like yours.”


	2. Healthy Mistrust

Dean froze, shoulders tensing and fingers flexing. He was caught off guard and calculating a strategy, Andi guessed. Despite the suit, he had the bearing of a military man. Suddenly he turned and moved towards her, stepping into her space much like Jason had just a few days previous. Her eyes reflexively closed to keep the fresh memory from overwhelming her.

“Who are you?” he demanded, voice strangely calm though his eyes sparked with hostility. Yep, definitely military. “How do you know my name?”

“Honestly? It’s hard to explain.” she replied defiantly, squaring her shoulders and matching his angry green eyes with her own stormy grey ones. She was quite a bit shorter than he, about seven inches if she had to guess, but she had a brazen intensity to her that intimidated most people with whom she ended up toe-to-toe like this. To her quiet surprise, Dean did not seem intimidated in the least, filling her with a strange, proud affection for him.

“Well then, start talking.” he countered, “You a demon? Crowley send you?”

“Not a demon, no,” she grinned, showing her teeth instinctively. “Hardly. All human.” She spread her arms wide and stepped back so she could gesture to her body wrapped in its wrinkled, dirty clothes. “More human than most, you could say.”

He paused, shifting on his feet and glancing to the side. “Right. Sure you are. You here for me?”

“I suppose I am, in a way.” Andi replied, leaning over to grab her duffel from the sidewalk.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Dean demanded, whipping out his gun with practiced speed and pointing it at her chest, though it seemed more of a threat than an intention.

Andi slowly settled the bag over her shoulders and raised her hands, keeping her eyes locked with his. “Getting my things.”

“Why.” His words were clipped and expectant, his eyes studying her closely.

“So I can come with you.”

That stunned him. His eyebrows furrowed, and the gun dipped slightly as he looked her over once more. “Excuse me?” his head tilted inquisitively, mouth twisted in disbelief.

“So I can come with you. I think you need me.”

“Oh yeah, and what makes you think that?” his voice was gruff and heavy with feigned authority.

Andi grinned again. She had him. In her experience, men most needed to assert their control when they had none. “I’ll tell you over lunch.”

Now thoroughly confused, Dean fully lowered the gun. “Are you asking me on a date?”

 

“No, but I’m hungry,” she nodded to her sign, still laying on the sidewalk, “and you don’t yet trust me. So. Take me somewhere I can eat, and you can ask me all the questions your little heart desires. Agreed?” She waited for him to respond.

Dean looked her over for the third time, clearly trying to make sense of what was clearly one of the strangest encounters of his life. His movements were too calculated, Andi now realized, too in-tune with the suit he was currently wearing. Military always look too stiff in their civies. Dean had combat instincts, but movements more suited to a hunter. Hunter. Obviously. How had she not seen it earlier? That would explain the demons in her vision, and in his words. It had been too long. Her smile faded. Of course SHE of all people would fall back in with hunters.

Andi took an experimental step forward. Dean quickly stepped back, putting up a hand to stop her - but he didn’t raise his gun. “Easy there. Nice and easy.” He pulled out a flask and tossed it to her.

“Really. Here? On the street corner?” she asked, incredulous.

 

“Right here. We’re not going anywhere until I know you’re not a demon, or a shifter, or anything else that wants me dead.” he countered, gun raised once more. “Besides, folks round here already know me as Agent Smith. They won’t interfere.”

 

“Fine.” Andi opened the flask, pushed up her jacket sleeve, and splashed holy water across her bare arm. “Not a demon.” She tossed the flask back to him, grinning to herself as he fumbled to catch it with the gun in his hands. “Next?”

 

He dug in his suit coat for a silver knife, tossing it sheath and all to her. She deftly caught it with her off hand, drawing the blade and gently slicing into her finger until she saw blood. She held up her finger for Dean to see, then wiped the blade on her jeans, and sheathed it. “Satisfied?”

 

“For now. Knife?” he stretched a hand for it, holstering his gun one-handed.

 

Andi stepped close to his chest, holding the knife up in between them, boldly staring him in the face as if daring him to back away first. He took the knife from her then angled outwards, neither backing away nor breaking eye contact, gesturing onward with his hand. “After you.”

 

She began to walk in the direction he indicated, grinning to herself before realizing she didn’t know where they were headed. Turning to ask, she saw Dean following her while rapidly texting. “Telling your brother about me?” she asked wryly.

 

His eyes shot up, and in a flash he had Andi’s stomach pinned against a parked car, arm twisted behind her back. “What do you know about Sam, huh?” he demanded harshly in her ear.

 

“I didn’t even know his name was Sam, ok?” she shouted back. “I just SAW him, and knew he was your brother.”

 

“When did you see us? How long have you been watching us?”

 

“No, it was a vision, just now when you gave me that cash. I have visions.”

 

“Oh do you now.” Dean sneered. “I’m not sure that I believe you.”

 

“No loss to me if you don’t.” Andi muttered, defiantly.

 

They stood like that for a moment, silently. Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew his mind was racing, deciding the best course of action. Across the street, she saw a passing woman stare at them curiously before putting her head down and hurrying along. Andi felt Dean release his grip on her arm and step away. Straightening, she shook out her arm to return feeling to it as she turned around to face him once more, trying to regain the composure she had lost.

 

Dean dialed his phone and put it up to his ear, eyes never leaving her. “Sam, we’ve got trouble.”

From across the street, a raven observed Dean escorting Andi to the Impala. Giving a satisfied caw, it winked it’s beady eye, and flew north once more.


	3. Identity

Sitting across the bunker table from the face she now knew belonged to Sam Winchester, Andi tried to steady herself. These two danced through the lines of fate like a hurricane dances through a palm tree. Each ripple and wave rolled over her with their words and movements, nauseating her. She shook her head, trying to clear it. No luck. _Come on Skinny Love, just last the year..._ she sang to herself, but her mind couldn’t focus. She grabbed the edge of the table, rubbing her sore finger over the wood grain. Sam was talking - reaching for the lifeboat of his voice over the chaos in her mind, she jolted back into reality with a start.

“So, what did you say your name was?” Sam asked, looking both confused and concerned.

She sighed. “Call me Andi.”

“Ok, and what’s your real name?”

 

She grinned again, cat-like. “That would be telling, Samwise.”

 

Sam glared at her, then looked up at Dean.

 

“I’m telling you, man, she’s crazy. Rocking back and forth all the way here, singing under her breath, the whole enchilada. Says she’s some kind of prophet.” Dean paced back and forth, gesticulating broadly to show his lack of answers.

 

Andi scoffed. “Not prophet. Those two-bit translators got the good end of the superhuman abilities stick. I’m an Oracle. I see possibilities. Literally. I have visions.”

“So, you’re psychic.” Sam replied evenly, having latched onto a suitable explanation is his own mind. “You can see the future.”

 

“No, I’m an Oracle. A seer. One who sees.” Andi rolled her eyes and waved her hands at the ceiling dramatically, eyes closed for effect. “I observe the warp and weft of time, understanding the pattern of the weave, but I cannot control how the shuttle flies.”

Both men blankly stared at her, thoroughly lost.

 

“Weaving? Never mind. Pointless metaphor in this century.” She shook her head.

 

“I don’t get it.” Dean concluded bluntly.

 

“Let’s just call Cas and ask him to check her out. If she’s sick, we can take her to a hospital.”

 

“Sam, she knew who we were. She knew my name! She’s a loose cannon.” Dean growled, running his fingers through his hair. “And what if she is a whatsit-cle. What else does she know?”

 

Andi snorted, trying to picture what kind of omniscient popsicle Dean clearly believed she considered herself to be. Another wave of nausea hit, carrying with it a prickly tidal wave of anxiety that settled in the back of her throat making it hard to breathe. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the table, sucking air in and out through her pursed lips.

 

“Whatever she is, she clearly needs our help. I’ll see what the Men of Letters have to say. Maybe they have something on oracles.” Sam stood and moved toward the library. “You help her get settled.”

 

“Oh, so you’re giving orders now? Why do I have to babysit?” Dean bellowed after him.

 

“Would you rather do research?”

Dean paused. “Fine. Bitch.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

The brothers exchanged glares before moving on to their respective tasks.

 

“Hey, uh, Andi, was it? You want something to drink?” Dean asked, awkwardly hovering near her slumped form, his voice pitching lower to cover his uncertainty.

 

Somehow his words managed to pierce through the haze clouding her mind, and she nodded against the tabletop. “Double whiskey, neat.” she managed, not bothering to raise her head.  
Dean grinned. “Girl after my own heart!” He swaggered over to a cupboard, reaching up to pull down two squat glasses and a bottle of bourbon. After pouring them each a generous helping he turned, sending hers sliding across the table until it bumped into her head, sloshing dangerously.

 

Andi sat up, grabbed desperately for the glass, and breathed deeply of the vapor before taking a swig. She tilted her head back, savoring the musky burn and willing it to dissolve the fog in her mind. It never did, but being buzzed gave her something to blame her confusion on, which was comforting in its own strange way.

 

“Easy there, princess.” Dean said, “it doesn’t fix anything.”

 

“I know. But it makes me feel better until I’m ready to fix it myself.” she said quietly, leaning back onto the table, eyes closed once more.

 

Something in Dean softened slightly as he saw her crumple again. She looked exhausted. He cleared his throat and glanced at his feet. “When was the last time you slept in a bed?”

 

“A couple weeks ago, I think?”

 

At that he set his glass down, deciding in an instant that he was going to take care of her. “Let’s find a room where you can crash for a bit. There’s too much space around here anyway.”

 

Andi tilted her head to look at him. “Are there showers?”

 

___________________

 

Warm water cascaded around her shoulders, blessedly peeling away at the layer of sweat and dust that was caked on her body and matted in her hair. Peace, warmth, silence - showers were beautiful, second only to wrapping up in a blanket by a fire on a cold night. She hummed happily as she watched dark patterns swirl down the drain, turning the faucet until the water began to sting her skin. Steam roiled around her, filling her lungs. She sighed and rubbed her fingers through her hair. This was luxury.

 

The door opened behind her suddenly, and Sam’s head poked through. “Dean?” he called out, starting when he saw her. He slammed the door closed again, quickly. Andi heard a muffled “Sorry!” from the other side of the door. She shook her head, turning back to her shower. The moment was gone, however, so she reluctantly turned off the water and dried herself off. Wrapping up in a towel, she wandered out into the hallway and vaguely towards where she remembered the library to be.

 

As she approached the door she heard the boys’ voices.

“...and apparently their prophetic visions are granted by their patron god, whoever that may be. They are notorious for being vague, often intentionally phrasing their foresight so that the recipient will hear the answer they desire, rather than what may be true.” Sam finished.

 

“Well that’s just great. Annoying and vague. Great combination.” Dean huffed.

 

At that, Andi walked in. “Perhaps, but it keeps me alive when some powerful asshole wants to hear that his foolhardy campaign will be successful, even though it’s obvious that they’re only going to get themselves killed. Besides, we only see possibilities. Natural conclusions to a given set of circumstances and personalities, with a divine boost. Those specific possibilities are possible to avoid, but often people find themselves in similar situations over and over again. Call it foolishness, human nature, fate, whatever. Eventually, one does them in. For me, it’s a constant movie in my head that I can’t control.” She plopped in a chair, curiously trying to interpret the tense and awkward looks Sam and Dean were exchanging. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Could...could you put some clothes on? You’re just wearing a towel.” Sam explained, looking everywhere but at Andi.

“Saw enough the first time?” Andi grinned, enjoying watching a blush spread furiously up his neck and face.

 

Dean looked up at his brother sharply before pulling off his flannel. He walked over to Andi, shielding her body with his and staring up at the bookshelves as he settled it over her shoulders.

She turned her back as she pushed her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it down. It hung on her skinny frame like a dress on a hanger. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.

 

“I’ll get you some food.” Sam shot up and almost bolted to the kitchen. Andi smiled after him.

 

“Sweet boy.” she muttered.

 

Dean coughed awkwardly. “If it’s alright with you, we’re going to call our friend Cas to come over and take a look at you.”

 

“Cas? She a doctor?”

 

“He, actually. Castiel. And he’s an angel.”

 

Andi stared. “An angel?!” she shouted. “You befriended one of those dicks?”

 

Another awkward cough echoed from the corner. “Hello.”

 

She whirled around, coming face to face with a trenchcoat. Looking up, her stormy eyes sparked with lightning as they met two gentle blues.

 

“My name is Castiel. I am an…”

 

She didn’t let him finish, launching a primal scream into his face and clawing at him with her nails. “YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!”

 

“WHOA WHOA WHOA, HEY!” Dean grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her back. “Get off of him!”

 

Castiel just stood staring at her, aghast.

 

“YOU DID THIS TO ME. YOUR BROTHER DID THIS TO ME.” she screamed again, angry tears streaming down her face.

 

“I...I’m so sorry.” Castiel stammered out, his eyes running over her, comprehension slowly dawning on him. “You don’t belong here.”

 

“NO SHIT.” Andi wailed, sinking out of Dean’s arms into a sobbing pile of flannel and misery.

 

Sam burst into the room, skidding slightly. “What’s going on?!” he shouted, taking in the scene.

 

“I don’t know!” roared Dean. “Cas?”

 

Cas merely sunk down next to Andi, reaching out for her.

 

“NO.” she screamed, shrinking away from him. “DON’T TOUCH ME.”

 

“Cas, what’s going on?”

 

He ignored the question, continuing to peer at Andi. “Who did this to you?”

 

“He said his name was Gabriel. I thought he had rescued me from her, but then I never got older. I healed quickly when I got hurt. I never died.” Andi stammered out.

 

Cas’s face grew even darker. “When?”

 

Andi was crying too hard to reply.

 

“Cas.” Dean said sharply.

 

Cas glanced up at him, then stood, pulling the brothers a short distance away. “She’s been brought back from death. It’s a tricky process, even under the best of circumstances, as you both know. Only ever done by God’s direct command. Except…” he glanced back at Andi, still crumpled on the floor of the library. “I don’t think her rescue was commanded. And if the angel was in a hurry, which if it wasn’t commanded they probably were, there’s a lot that can go wrong.”

 

“So you’re saying Gabriel brought her back wrong?” Sam asked incredulously.

 

“Is that why she’s all…” Dean swirled his finger next to his ear and whistled. Sam shot him a sideways glare.

 

“It was after the war.” Andi spoke up from the floor, her breath hitching as she tried to calm herself. “I was taken prisoner, a prized captive because I was a princess. I told...I told him that he was doomed, that his wife was furious with him for murdering their daughter. But he didn’t believe me. They never believe me.”

 

“No.” Sam breathed, his encyclopedic mind having already placed the story.

 

“She killed him, just like I knew she would. And then she turned on me, as if I was at fault when her husband raped me. But I welcomed death, and the chance to rest from the curse the gods laid on me.” her breath caught again, so she took a moment to steady herself before continuing. “Then I saw him, surrounded with soft light. I thought it was Apollo finally answering my prayers. He called himself Gabriel, and promised that he would make me whole again. I accepted, but when I woke up the curse was still there. I’ve wandered the world ever since.”

 

“Who are you?” Dean asked, leaning in. “Where are you from?”

 

“Cassandra.” Andi replied, looking up to meet his worried eyes. “I am Cassandra of Troy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So, I may have bitten off more than I can chew here, guys. I had a rough night (yay anxiety...) so I stayed up just researching, crafting my own lore, and drawing up an outline. This is going to take FOREVER but I'm really excited about it. Even if nobody reads it, I have an urge to just get it out of my head.
> 
> So if you are reading it, let me know! I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Hugs!


	4. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

“Who?” Dean asked, puzzled.

 

“Trojan War. Ancient Greece.” Sam interjected softly, not taking his eyes off Andi.

 

“Oh. I always thought you looked more like Diane Kruger.”

 

Andi rolled her eyes. “That was Helen, dumbass, the woman half my brothers slept with. I wasn’t in the movie.”

 

“Ah. See!” Dean flapped his arms and looked significantly at Sam. “No wonder nobody knows who she is.”

 

“Dean.”

 

Castiel stepped towards her again. “Gabriel did this to you? I cannot believe my brother would do something so reckless.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because Gabriel is so responsible.”

 

“Dean! Not now.”

 

With a sudden jolt of white-hot anger, Andi stood and pointed her finger at Cas. “How dare you. You can see me as I really am. You know I don’t belong here. Gabriel did this to me, and you have to fix it. Now.”

 

“I do not believe I have that kind of power. Perhaps…”

 

“NOW. Michael said he would, if I helped him…”

 

“Michael knew about this?” Castiel looked aghast.

 

“Michael makes many promises he has no intention of keeping.” Sam said wryly.

 

Andi looked back and forth between the men staring at her in shock. “I’ve been alive for 3000 years, and you’re exchanging angelic water cooler gossip? Men are all the same, winged or otherwise.” She flopped into a library chair, exasperated. 

 

Looking at her curiously, Castiel reached two fingers towards her forehead. “May I?”

 

She nodded, and he placed them gently on her forehead. Immediately, a scream tore from her throat, agonizing to hear.

 

Sam jumped forward and caught her in his arms as she fell out of her chair. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened? Are you ok?” He smoothed her hair back, and hurriedly examined her face. Her eyes rolled around, unfocused, and a cold sweat shone over her face and throat.

 

“Strange.” Castiel said solemnly. “There’s some sort of barrier...it is hard to explain, seeing as you have never touched a raw soul. Usually a soul is soft, malleable. Hers is...untouchable. Alive, but covered in glass. Like an insect trapped in amber.”

 

“That doesn’t sound alive to me.” Dean said, gazing at her slumped form with a trace of compassion slipping across his hardened face.

 

“What’s happening to her now?” Sam said, looking desperately up at the angel. “She needs help!”

 

“It seems my presence is affecting her in some way. I do not think I should touch her again.”

 

“Let’s get her into a room.” Sam said, quickly and easily gathering Andi up into his arms. As his fingers touched her bare thighs his brain once again registered her lack of dress, and he quickly bounced his eyes away from her, following Dean down the hallway towards the rooms.

___________________

_The ruddy plains pockmarked with fields - grain, olives, grapes - stretched out on either side of the dirt path Cassandra walked. Overhead shone the sun, searing her dark hair and burnt skin. Her sandals were cracked. She debated removing them, but after tentatively testing a toe on the hot dirt she decided against it. She would have to walk on as they were. Onward. Always onward now._

 

_Behind her unfamiliar mountains towered, blessedly blocking her view of the rocky land from which she wandered - the land of her enslavement. She hoped never to visit there again. Before her lay endless plains: short, scrubby trees, rough grass, dirt, dirt, dirt. Troy had stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. As a child she loved escaping from her caregivers and rushing down to the caves on the coast, frollicking in the frigid, salty spray of the ocean. It was refreshing, especially on the hot days. Now there was nothing to cool her aching head._

 

_Looking up she saw that the next small grouping of trees clustered around a low stone wall. A well? Possibly. Her steps quickened and her neck craned as she gazed around, looking for an owner who might chase her away. Nobody. She broke out in a little run, hopping awkwardly on her broken sandal. ___

_But as she got closer, she noticed a pair of strong legs sticking out from under a tunic and a wide-brimmed traveler’s hat. She halted immediately. Someone was taking a nap in the shade of the trees. Ever so quietly she tiptoed forward, arcing so that her shadow wouldn’t cross over his face. Keeping her eyes on his form, she slowly reached for the bucket with one hand, bracing herself on the wall with the other._

_Suddenly, her ears caught a low hiss issuing from a crack between the stones, and a lithe head crept out towards her foot. With a scream she dropped the bucket, nearly falling into the well, and danced backward away from the snake._

_In a flash the sleeper stirred, throwing off the hat, drawing a sword and waving it in Cassandra’s direction. “What? Who’s there?”_

_“Snake!” was all she could muster, pointing at it with a trembling hand._

_With one liquid motion the young man, as Cassandra now saw him to be, bent down and decapitated the snake with his sword. Straightening proudly, he shook his sword once in a half-hearted attempt to clean it, then stuck it in the dirt and leaned on it rakishly, grinning broadly. “Well hello there.”_

_“H-hello.” she replied with wide eyes, nerves steadying._

_“I take it this must be your well?” he gestured to the structure, still grinning with the self-assurance of a man who expected to be beloved of all ladies unfortunate enough to stumble across his path._

_“What? No, no, I’m...I’m traveling. I had hoped for a drink.” she stammered, gathering herself as she stood. There it was - the inevitable pressure on the base of her skull. She rubbed her temple with the heel of her hand, wincing._

_His smile faded a bit as he took her in, curiously. Her chiton and cloak were well made, hinting at breeding, but her broken sandals, dirty aspect, and messy hair made her look like a crazed wanderer. She was a girl alone in the plains of Greece, sunburnt, tired, and thirsty - a mystery. “Are you alright?” he asked, reaching out to touch her elbow._

_Cassandra screamed as he came closer, the visions bursting before her eyes with a flash of white-hot pain. She saw a hooded old woman hunched over a brazier, beckoning, a ferocious bull-headed monster roaring in a flaming room, a girl standing on a beach, looking out over the ocean, funeral after funeral, each featuring the young man standing somberly by the pyre looking older and more tired in each scene, until finally it was his face that the flames licked, blackening the skin as it peeled away from bone. She collapsed on the ground again, clutching at her head._

_The young man was shouting something to her, but she couldn’t hear him over the whine in her ears. She looked up at him blearily, before her vision clouded and she fell back into oblivion._

______________________ _

__When Andi awoke, she was alone in a spartan bedroom, tucked under khaki sheets, still in Dean’s flannel. On a low table next to her rested a cold grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of water. She grabbed the food, downing it and the water with the eager alacrity of someone who intimately understands the panic that accompanies not knowing when you might next be able to eat. She finished the sandwich with a satisfied hum, licking the plate clean as she examined the rest of the room. A pair of sweatpants lay on a chair by the door. She jumped up and pulled them on, rolling up the legs and cinching the drawstring as tight as she could. _I look ridiculous_ she couldn’t help thinking - at least now her legs were warm._ _

__

__She stood in the doorway of her room for a moment, trying to steady her breathing as she prepared to search out her hosts. Briefly she thought of running, but the flash of panic and prickly warning that accompanied the thought assured her that it would be wiser to stay. Padding barefoot down the labyrinth of hallways, she tried to orient herself. Finally she came across the kitchen, discovering the three men sitting and talking quietly._ _

__

__“Hey boys. Found you.” she said, tensing when she saw the angel, but trying to play it off with her usual swagger that suddenly reminded her of Dean._ _

__

__“Cassandra.” Cas said solemnly._ _

__

__“Andi.” She sharply replied, not meeting his eyes._ _

__

__“Andi. I am afraid that I am unable to heal you. Your soul has been cemented to your body. I am not sure even Gabriel could undo what he has done.”_ _

__

__“Well, call him down here anyway. If he can’t fix me, I want to at least tell him what I think of his precious gift.”_ _

__

__“Gabriel is dead.” Sam said quietly._ _

__

__Andi stared at them, frozen. After a beat she began to laugh, a bitter, sardonic cackle. “You mean to tell me that not only am I STILL stuck here, but that he is now enjoying the rest he stole from me? Of course he is. Well.”_ _

__

__“I am sorry.” Castiel interjected, awkwardly._ _

__

__“For what, Cas-ti-el?” she drew his name out melodically, mocking him. “I lost hope of being set free a long time ago. Now it’s final.”_ _

__

__Thick silence hung in the room as the four looked at each other. Sam’s eyes dropped quickly, and he ran his finger over the wood grain of the table. Dean absentmindedly rubbed his thumb on his beer as he looked back and forth from Cas to Andi, who were staring at each other: he gazing with compassion into her heart, she sizing him up with suspicion. Finally, she blinked and rubbed her temple with both hands._ _

__

__“For the love of...you three give me a headache.”_ _

__

__Cas tilted his head curiously. “Sam and Dean told me you are an Oracle. Do your visions trouble you?”_ _

__

__“Yes. Constantly.” she sighed._ _

__

__“That I can help with, if you would allow me.” he said, standing._ _

__

__“You can take away my visions?” she looked at him quizzically, automatically taking a step back._ _

__

__“If you would like. Or I can mute them so that they do not come unless you are looking for them. Think of it as a veil between you and your power.”_ _

__

__“Or a semi-permeable membrane? Like a cell?” Andi asked eagerly._ _

__

__“...yes. That metaphor works as well.”_ _

__

__Sam and Dean exchanged shrugs._ _

__

__“I…” she paused, noting her own eagerness and taking a moment to bury it, turning instead to sarcasm. “I would appreciate the assistance, angel-man.” She stretched her arms out to the sides, closing her eyes in an accepting posture._ _

__

__Castiel stepped towards her, two fingers outstretched. Dean rose, remembering how a similar process had once affected Sam he moved behind Andi. “I’m right behind you, ready to catch you if you fall.” he said quietly. Her eyes flew open at the unexpected voice, just in time for Cas to press his fingers to her forehead. Once again she screamed, back arching as a blue fire flashed in her eyes, chasing sparks of white lightning around her pupils. Cas stepped in closer, concentrating on his work. She went rigid, then collapsed backward into Dean’s waiting arms._ _

__

__“It is done.” Castiel turned to Sam, who had sprung to his feet at Andi’s cry, and answered his wordless question. “When she awakes she will be a master of her mind once more. I cannot take away her power - it was given to her by a god of the Pantheon - and I cannot take away the memories of what she has suffered. Her soul is tortured and bleeding under its wall. She will never be what most humans consider to be ‘normal.’ But she will find it easier to interact with other humans. I doubt she will ever be fully comfortable around me.”_ _

__

__“Understandable, considering.” Sam said softly. “Thank you, Cas.”_ _

__

__The angel nodded solemnly at both men, glanced tenderly at Andi’s still trembling form, then lifted his eyes and flew out._ _

__

__Sam walked over to the cupboard, pulling out a glass and filling it with water. He crouched on the floor next to Andi and Dean, the men waiting for her to wake._ _


	5. A Home Worth Building

Eventually the aftershocks stilled, and Andi’s eyes gently fluttered open. She immediately closed them again with a wince, startled to see two faces so close to her own. But after a heartbeat they flew open again. “It worked.” she breathed, awed, “No headache. No visions.” She pulled out of Dean’s arms, standing and placing two fingers lightly on her right temple. “I can feel them there, itching, but they wait for me. It’s like a book waiting on a table for me to open. I can walk right past as many times as I like!” A bubbly laugh burst from her throat, and she whirled around the kitchen, feet stepping lightly in a spontaneous dance.

 

Sam watched her, captivated, grinning in spite of himself. He glanced at Dean as his brother stood, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“Well, now that that’s taken care of, let’s get you on your way.” Dean said gruffly.

 

“Dean, we can’t just throw her out.”

 

“Well she can’t very well stay around here either.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Hello-o?!” Andi jumped in. “I’m standing right here!”

 

“I’m sorry.” Sam said reassuringly, “I think he and I need to have a talk about this.”

 

“Really. You two big, strong, strapping men are going to go into another room and decide my fate? Absolutely not.”

 

The brothers looked at each other. “Fair point.” Sam added.

 

“Fine.” Dean plopped onto a stool next to the table, reaching for his beer bottle before remembering that it was empty. “You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.”

 

Andi rolled her eyes. “I am fully aware of how dangerous a hunter’s life can be.” she replied, exasperated. “I’ve been around for a while. And I told you when we met; I think I’m supposed to help you.”

 

“We aren’t most hunters.” Dean countered, his tone walking the line between somber and prideful. “We draw out the worst of the worst on a weekly basis. I’m talking knights of hell, God’s sister, Hitler.” Suddenly he straightened with a grin. “Oh by the way, I killed Hitler. You’re welcome.”

 

She sighed in frustration. “No you didn’t, I did. You weren’t even born yet.”

 

His smile faltered for a moment. “Well you didn’t do a thorough job, apparently. He came back and I had to kill him again.”

 

Andi leaned over the table, bracing herself on her hands. “You look here. I’ve faced down monsters and men, gods and kings. I’ve fought in wars you’ve never heard of and saved the lives of people you will never meet. You probably owe me your life in so many ways even Clotho would struggle to calculate them. I’ve more than earned the right to go where I want and do what I please. I do not need your assessment or your protection. All I need is your permission.”

 

“Who’s Clotho?”

“Not the point, Dean!”

Dean balked at the intensity in her eyes, turning towards his empty bottle once more to put some space between them. He stared at it deeply, as if he could will it to fill again.

 

Sam stepped forward and hesitantly offered: “I, for one, think she would be helpful. Who knows what we might be up against next. I say we could use all the help we can get.”

 

“And after all, I can’t exactly get myself killed.” Andi added with a wry grin.

 

Dean glanced quickly up at her, then looked back down at the bottle. He stood and tossed the bottle haphazardly into the bin, turning and walking to the hallway. “Fine.” he barked as he left the room. “Whatever.”

 

Andi grinned triumphantly, nodding at Sam with satisfaction.

 

“Give him some time.” Sam said to her softly. “He’ll come around.”

___________________

A couple days later, Dean stood in the kitchen doorway, frozen in confusion. “What the...get off the table!” he barked.

 

Andi glanced innocently up at his gruff face from her perch on the bunker’s dining table, back leaning against the notice board. “Hmmm?”

 

“Get off the table! We eat there!”

 

She held up the last slice of cherry pie and her fork. “I am eating on here.”

 

“That’s not...that’s my...GAH!” Dean blustered as Sam walked up sleepily. “Get off the friggin’ table!”

 

“I give it three weeks.” Andi said simply, as she swung her legs onto the floor, gathering her pie and her dignity.

 

“Three weeks for what?” Dean barked. “Give me my pie!”

 

“Three weeks until you’re begging me to get on the table for you.” she replied, grey eyes twinkling as she took another bite of pie.

 

“Oh really, and what makes you think that’s going to happen?” he countered, reaching for the plate.

 

“I told you. I see all the great tragedies of the future.” she countered, whirling nimbly away.

 

Sam snorted while Dean’s brow furrowed deeper still. “Come again?”

 

She waggled her eyebrows before darting down the hallway, searching for another perch on which to enjoy her fruity prize.

 

Sam cleared his throat. “I think she just called you lousy at sex,” he explained with a grin, padding heavily over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

 

“She...I’m not...she was...she stole my pie!” Dean continued to stammer, unsure which infraction infuriated him more. “Son of a bitch!”

 

Sam shook his head. “She’s good for you. It’s been awhile since we’ve met someone who can run circles around us. Trust me, it’s much harder if you try to keep up. Just relax, give her some space, and admire her work when she’s done.”

 

“What work? All she’s done for the last few days is wander around the bunker, eating our pie, and telling cryptic jokes that I don’t even think you get half the time!” Dean shouted.

 

Sam crooked an eyebrow. “Oh, so now it’s our pie?”

 

“Hey.” Dean shoved his finger at Sam with deadly serious eyes. “We worked hard for that pie.”

 

“Well then, let’s take her with us on our next case.” Sam leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee with the quiet contentment of having landed on a logical conclusion.

 

Dean stared at him for several seconds, frozen once more, before erupting “NO.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Nuh-uh. Absolutely not.”

 

“Dean. It’s not like she’s can get herself killed. Besides, she’s a skilled fighter. AND she knows her stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knows more than we do. She has been doing this longer than we have.”

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, grumbling to himself.

 

“Look, Dean. I found a nice little case just a couple hours away. Your standard salt and burn. Let’s give it a trial run, see how it goes. If she can’t handle it, I won’t ask again. But if she does well, you have to stop complaining.”

 

“Fine!” Dean barked. “Bring your little girlfriend along. But she better leave the pie alone.” He stormed out of the kitchen towards the garage, a strange tightness twisting his stomach. Running his fingers through his hair as he walked, he glanced around the library, noticing Andi perched cross-legged on top of a bookshelf, reading and absent-mindedly licking her empty plate. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, before he caught himself and carried on with a huff.


	6. Feminism & the Foresaken Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. So, this one is a little blunt. TRIGGER WARNINGS GALORE. I decided to keep it rather blunt because I feel like hunters who gut monsters on a regular basis emotionally detach from the horror of death anyway. So, make your own good decisions. Also featuring A+ parenting John Winchester would be proud of...something may be wrong with me :) 
> 
> There's also a fight. It's going to seem really cheap and petty, but please stick with it. I promise it will make more sense later in the story.
> 
> God, I did way too much research for this single chapter.

_Harper, KS_

“So get this.” Sam said as he opened the motel room door. “The third victim? Also a teenage mother. She secretly gave birth 22 years ago, and put the baby up for a closed adoption. Her parents flew her all the way out to South Carolina so nobody would know about it.”

 

“I knew that was significant.” Andi said from the table, looking up from Sam’s laptop. “That’s all three of them, wrists mysteriously slit in a locked room 22 years after they gave birth, with no blade at hand, no depression, no apparent reason to kill themselves. Was this one also to the day?”

 

“We got it out of her childhood friend, who wasn’t at the birth, but she guesses it was about this time of year.” Dean answered her, closing the door behind them. He immediately pulled off his jacket, tossing it on the bed, and started undoing his tie. “I hate these nooses. Always feel like I’m suffocating.”

 

“Good news is there’s less than 2000 people here, so it should be easy to find out about other teenage pregnancies.” Sam mused, leaning back in the other chair and propping his feet up on one of the beds.

 

“Way ahead of you.” Andi slid her notepad across the table. “The column on the left is a comprehensive list of all women in the area who had teenage pregnancies in the last 50 years.”

 

“When did you learn how to hack hospital records? I thought you had been living off the grid for the last few decades.” Sam asked, incredulous.

 

She rolled her eyes, gesturing at the laptop. “I’m not a tech-virgin, Sam. But no hacking needed - just Connie’s Beauty Shop. I told the lady at the Post Office that I was new to the area and wanted to meet some ladies to sit with at church on Sunday. She sent me down the road, and an hour of gossiping later I had everything we needed.”

 

“Never underestimate the nosiness of small town church ladies.” Dean added, nodding sagely.

 

“So what’s the column on the right?”

 

“That’s everyone who’s died from slit wrists in the same time frame.” she replied quietly.

 

Sam whistled under his breath. “It’s a much longer list.”

 

“Small farm town in the rural South. Lots of drugs, lots of gossip, lots of pressure.” Andi looked out the window, seeming to shrink into herself a bit. “I get it.”

 

“And never underestimate the nosiness of small town church ladies.” Dean repeated, flopping on the bed with a sigh.

 

The room was quiet for a moment.

 

“Any of these names connected?” Sam broke the silence before it got too heavy.

 

“A few. It’s a small town.” Andi crooked an eyebrow at him with a mischievous smile. “I Googled them.”

 

“Which ones?”

 

“Just two, other than our victims. But one stands out in particular. Sandra Jones had a son in 1984 at 15, Joshua. She kept the baby - the two of them lived in the same trailer park that all three victims lived in. He killed himself 10 years ago on his 22nd birthday.”

 

“You think it may have something to do with Joshua?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

 

“Twenty-two years to the day after he was born, and in the same trailer park. If they aren’t connected, that’s a hell of a coincidence.”

 

“But why kill the teenage mothers if Joshua was the one who offed himself?” Dean piped up from the bed.

 

“Maybe Sandra was the one who killed him?” Sam offered.

 

“You think a 37 year old woman killed a 22 year old man by slitting his wrists? I doubt it.” Andi scoffed.

 

“Let me get the coroner’s report.” Sam said, spinning his laptop around to face him.

 

“They don’t have the records digitized.” she warned him. “I checked.”

 

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

 

“I told you, I’m not a tech virgin.”

 

“He died 10 years ago, and the coroner’s records aren’t digitized?” Sam’s voice pitched higher in disbelief.

 

“Small farm town in the rural South, Sammy.” Dean said, sitting up. “Ok, you two drop by the Police Department to get the records, I’ll interrogate the grieving mother.”

 

“Why are you going by yourself?”

 

“47 year old mother, never married, lost her son. Sounds like MILF material to me.” he grinned.

 

“Oh God.” Sam covered his eyes. “I never wanted to hear that come out of your mouth.”

 

“Thank goodness Cas helped me out, or I would have had to see it.” Andi quipped. Then she paused. “OH GOD. Why did I say that? It’s like trying not to think about purple elephants. Now I’m picturing it.” she dropped her head to the table and covered it with her arms.

 

“Besides,” Sam quickly remembered, “she can’t go with me to the police station. We don’t have a badge for her yet, remember?”

 

“HA.” she shouted, voice muffled under her arms.

 

“Fine. We’ll go to the police station, and then I’ll go interrogate the mother.”

 

Andi sat up. “Her shift at the Fence Post Supper Club starts in an hour. It’ll be hard to interrogate her there.”

 

“Well, sounds like we should talk to the mother tomorrow. Dean, put your tie back on so we can get to the station before 5.” Sam snapped the laptop closed.

 

Dean grumbled as he tied his tie once more.

 

“And what should I do while you two heroes are galavanting about?” Andi asked, crossing her arms.

 

“Stay here for now.” Dean said, putting on his jacket and trying to smooth out the wrinkles.

 

She rolled her eyes and turned the laptop back towards her. “Typical.”

 

“We’ll be back soon.” Sam opened the door. “Want us to grab you anything for dinner?”

 

“I’ll take care of myself, Samwise.” She said evenly, not looking at him.

 

He looked at her for a moment, almost speaking, before thinking better of it and walking out to the Impala. Dean followed shortly after, closing the door firmly behind them.

 

Andi waited until the car was out of sight. “Like hell I’m staying here.” she muttered, grabbing her worn army jacket. Darting into the parking lot, she found a rusty pickup truck that was parked out of sight of the main office. She quickly jimmied the door with a leftover wire hanger she had found in the motel closet, and deftly hotwired the car. “Thank you, Chicago.” she smiled, remembering her short stint with a chop shop there. “Ok, the trailer park is less than 10 minutes away.” she said, pulling out the address from a crumpled note in her back pocket as she turned out onto the road. “I’ll be back before they realize I’m gone.”

 

About 10 minutes later, she stood on a rickety porch, knocking on the molded plastic door. This trailer was noticeably dirtier than the others, and had a faint smell of cigarettes, even from the outside. “What do you want?” A shrill voice said from the other side of the door.

 

“My name is Amanda. I went to highschool with Josh.” Andi lied smoothly.

 

The door cracked open, and a thin woman with straw colored hair knotted in a tight bun poked her head out. She wore a cheap maroon button-up shirt, with the top three buttons undone to reveal sagging cleavage. “He mentioned an Amanda a couple times. He had a crush on you?” she asked sharply.

 

Andi ducked her head with feigned shyness and replied “I guess so. We didn’t talk much, though.”

 

“Don’t know why you would. Good for nothing, that’s what he was. What are you doing here? He’s dead, you know. Finally realized what a failure he was and checked out.”

 

“I...I did. That’s why I came. I just came back to town for a visit a few days ago, and my friend told me. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

 

“Save your breath.” Ms. Jones went to close the door, but Andi quickly stuck her foot in the gap.

 

“I’m so sorry to bring this up, ma’am, I know it must be hard on you, but…”

 

The woman interrupted her. “That boy ruined my life. He’s gone now, and I’d love to forget he ever existed. So get off my porch, or I’ll call the police. Ya hear?”

 

Andi removed her foot, and the door slammed in her face. “Damn.” she muttered under her breath as she walked back to the car. “So much for the MILF idea. Dean would have been so disappointed.”

 

She closed the door to the motel room behind her just as she heard the low grumble of the Impala pull into the parking lot. Swiftly wriggling out of her jacket, she turned on the TV and jumped on a bed, trying to look like she had been there the whole time.

 

Dean came in first. “Get your shoes off my bed!” he said briskly, as he removed his jacket again, tie already undone.

 

“Still sore, Dean?” Andi laughed, swinging her feet off the bed. “Relax. She was a bitch anyway. Not your type.”

 

“You hear that, Sammy?” Dean turned towards his brother as the giant stepped into the room, carrying a file with Joshua Jones’ name on it. “She did go. You owe me $10.”

 

“I didn’t take that bet, Dean.” he said with a sigh. “Andi, you shouldn’t have gone without us.”

 

“Too late now. What did you find?”

 

Sam opened the file. “Suicide all right. He used a knife from the kitchen, right next to him when he died. Mom was at work at the time of death; she found him the next morning and called the cops immediately. No note, but he had just lost his job again, according to the officer who worked the case. Neighbors said the two fought a lot. Apparently the mom gets violent when she’s drunk.”

 

Andi nodded. “That makes sense. She’s not too charming when sober, either. Blamed Josh for ruining her life. Poor kid must have hated her. And himself.”

 

“So he spends the afterlife taking revenge on women just like her.” Dean observed.

 

“But not his mother. I wonder if he’s still afraid of her.” Andi mused, biting her lip in thought.

 

“Body was cremated. No grave.” Sam was still flipping through the file. He looked up, his face drawn. “He was clutching a teddy bear when they found him.”

 

The three stood there, absorbing the horror of a desperate, terrified man feeling like a trapped little boy.

 

“Wow.” Andi broke the silence, rubbing her palms on her legs nervously. “He might be possessing the bear. Shall we break into the mother’s house while she’s at work?” Andi stood and crooked an eyebrow inquisitively at Dean.

 

“Good plan.” he nodded grimly, grabbing his bag from the floor. “Get changed and be at the car in ten.” He ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

Andi smiled at Sam. “We three make a good team.”

 

“You really shouldn’t have gone to her house by yourself.”

 

“Oh come on. What could she have done?”

 

“Just because you can’t die doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. Or worse. You’re not completely invulnerable.”

 

“Sam, that isn’t your responsibility.”

 

“I know. I just don’t want to see you in pain. I care about you.”

 

She stopped at that, looking at him with defensive eyes. After a moment she turned, grabbed her bag, and walked to the bathroom. It took her a second to register that the door was already closed. “Damn it, Dean, I’m the only girl here. Your brother has seen your naked ass before, get over it.”

 

A muffled “too late, princess” rumbled out from under the door, and Andi tossed her bag onto the second bed in frustration.

 

“Fine.” she turned her back to Sam and started peeling off her shirt. “Turn around.”

 

“Uh, yes, ma’am.” he stammered, blushing and turning around to grab his own change of clothes.

 

Suddenly, Andi’s belly grumbled loudly enough for Sam to hear it from across the motel room. “Did you have dinner yet?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

 

“SAM.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said I would take care of myself.”

 

“I know you did, I just want you to know that you don’t have to.”

 

“YES. I. DO.” she whirled around, in only a worn bra and a pair of jeans, her shirt bunched angrily in her hands. “Stop hovering. You make me feel like I’m made of glass.”

 

He turned and looked at her, his face kind and full of grief. “No you don’t. That’s part of being a team. You were right, we do make a good team. You want to help us. Let us help you too. We want...I want to help you.”

 

She threw her shirt at him. He caught it easily, then registered that she was only in her bra, blushed harder and looked at the floor.

 

“Fuck you, Sam Winchester!” She pulled on a different t-shirt, barely getting it over her chest before ducking around him, throwing open the door and striding into the parking lot, shoulders hunched, hands in her pockets.

 

Dean cautiously opened the door to the bathroom and saw Sam standing in the middle of the room, her shirt bunched in his hands, the open door swinging behind him. “Well that went well. Trouble in paradise, Sammy?”

 

“Dean. Not now.” Sam glared at Dean from under his bangs, tossing her shirt on the bed before grabbing his bag and going into the bathroom.

 

Dean watched him go, then looked out to the parking lot where Andi slumped against Baby. She looked natural out there, arms crossed, hair blowing around her face in the chilly fall wind. She shivered slightly. Dean looked over and saw her jacket crumpled on the floor. He picked it up with his own and headed out to meet her.

 

Andi looked up when she heard the door close, seeing Dean walk out to her. “I don’t want to hear it.” she snapped bitterly as he drew closer.

 

Silently he handed her her jacket, slipping his on as well. He settled next to her, leaning against the car and looking out over the parking lot. They stood there silently until Sam made his way out.

 

It was a quiet ride to Ms. Jones’ house.


	7. Where There's Smoke, There's a Red Herring

Dean bent over, picking the lock to the Jones trailer while Andi blocked him from prying eyes. Sam said he was taking a lap around the neighborhood to avoid suspicion, but Andi suspected he needed space. “Dean, what’s taking so long?”

 

“I can’t figure...oh. I think it’s open already.”

 

“Nicely done.” she said sarcastically as she pushed past him.

 

“Hey.” he grabbed her elbow and spun her towards him, sticking a finger in her face. “Keep what’s between you and Sam between you and Sam, got it?”

 

“Let go of me.”

 

He let go of her elbow, but continued looking evenly into her eyes. There were no more storm clouds - she looked tired and sad. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

 

“What happened to keeping it between me and Sam?” she countered, with defiance. The storms rose again in her eyes.

 

“Fine.” he moved past her and started glancing around the front room. “Let’s find what Josh’s gotten himself into and gank this fucker.”

 

Andi turned and looked around the trailer for the first time. Everything was faded and thick with settled cigarette smoke. The smell permeated the air, burning her lungs. She coughed, covering her mouth with her sleeve and blinking her eyes to clear them. The wood veneer on the walls was scratched and cracked in places. A dark hallway led off to her left, down the length of the trailer. “I’ll see if his bedroom’s down here.” she said to Dean, hearing Sam’s heavy footfall on the porch outside.

 

Sam wrinkled his nose as he stepped through the door. “Man, this place stinks.”

 

“Hate to see what the kitchen looks like.” Dean agreed, peering into it curiously. “Probably better to not open the fridge.”

 

“I guarantee I’ve watched you eat worse.” Sam grinned at him.

 

“Probably.” Dean shrugged.

 

“Guys!” they heard Andi’s voice calling from the end of the hallway. “There’s someone here!”

 

Dean drew his gun. “Damn it. Get your badge ready.”

 

The two of them moved down the hall, weapons at the ready. “Who’s there?”

 

“It’s ok! She’s just scared.” Andi reassured them, raising a hand to indicate that they should put the guns away.

 

Dean turned and peered into the closet Andi was staring at. There, huddled on the floor, pale and trembling, sat a young woman in her early thirties, blonde hair curling around her shoulders.

 

“I...I heard someone crying.” she stammered out. “A little boy. He sounded scared. He asked me for help! The door was open, so I...but there was no little boy! And then a...a...a man appeared, and he chased me in here. He said I tortured him! But I never…” her breath hitched, and she coughed. “I’ve never seen him before! He’s going to kill me!”

 

“It’s ok. You’re going to be ok.” Sam said as he reached out a hand to help the stranger to her feet. “We’re going to get you out of here. What’s your name?”

 

“C-c-clara.” her eyes welled with tears. “Oh my god! He’s there!” she pointed over Sam’s shoulders with a trembling finger.

 

The three hunters whirled to look behind them. Dean automatically drew his gun, pointing it at the shimmering spectre of a man in his early twenties that stood there, silently watching.

 

“Salt. Now.” Andi’s breath puffed out, visible in the suddenly frigid air.

 

Dean fired a salt round into the spirit, forcing it to swirl and vanish. Clara squealed, burying her face in Sam’s broad shoulder.

 

“Great. The whole neighborhood probably heard that.” Andi grumbled, glaring at Dean.

 

“We need to move quickly, before the cops show up.” he said, ignoring her.

 

“How are we going to find the object he’s possessing? We barely know anything about him.” Sam pointed out.

 

“We could salt and burn the whole place?” Andi offered. Both brothers shot her a look. “Hey, it can only get better.”

 

“This looks like the mom’s room.” Dean said, pointing at the jewelry box and the bras hanging out of the dresser drawers. “Let’s find his. Probably something in there.”

 

The four moved back down the hall, Clara clinging to Sam. Andi took up the rear, rolling her eyes once everyone’s back was turned.

 

Dean opened a side door and peered in. “Here we go.” He flung open the door to a plain bedroom with a single bed and a small dresser. A layer of dust lay over everything, swirling a bit from the swing of the door. The walls were bare, the carpet the same grey as the rest of the house. Thin brown sheets were neatly tucked around a made bed, a flat, lumpy pillow waiting at the top for a head ten years late for bedtime.

 

“There.” Andi pointed to the dresser where a ragged, stuffed brown bear sat, one glass eye missing.

 

Dean walked to it briskly, picking it up and turning it over with one hand. He grunted, and tapped the other side of the bear’s head with the barrel of his gun. “Blood.” he said with grim satisfaction.

 

The three piled up in the doorway all grimaced. “Why would anyone keep that?” Andi wondered aloud.

 

“Let’s head out and burn this thing before he comes back.” Dean stepped to rejoin the others, but Clara squeaked, eyes going wide once more, stopping him in his tracks.

 

Sam took his arm from around her shoulders and drew his gun, going to stand with Dean in the bedroom. The brothers stood side by side, facing down the young man once more, his form flickering between a man, sleeves torn, arms bleeding, and a little boy in striped pajamas, tears streaking down his face.

 

“Please.” the ghost whimpered. “He’s mine.”

 

“You’ve been killing women.” Dean barked. “Young mothers, just like yours. We can’t let you stay here.”

 

“Please.” a translucent hand reached out for the bear. “Please. You can go.” He glanced at Clara and Andi in the doorway. “You can all go. But please let me have bear.” His form flickered once more, then settled on the little boy as he stepped forward, arm still outstretched.

 

Sam raised his gun. “You know we can’t do that.”

 

The boy’s eyes shot to Sam, and he bared his teeth in a hiss, red streaking through his body as he flickered back to a man. With supernatural speed, the spirit launched itself at Sam, claws sprouting grotesquely from his fingers. Immediately Sam shot him, sending the ghost backward into oblivion once more.

 

“Quickly. We don’t have long. Out of the house!” Dean shouted, shooing everyone into the cramped hallway.

 

The terrified young woman didn’t have to be told twice, sprinting for the door and pulling on the handle. “It won’t budge!” She cried out, looking wild-eyed back to the hunters as they followed.

 

“Damn it.” Dean growled, as he barreled past the group, into the kitchen, returning his pistol to its holster. “Good, metal sink. Hey! Find salt!”

 

Sam and Andi moved around the kitchen, throwing open cabinets as they went.

 

“Got it.” Sam tossed the fat cylinder to his brother. Dean caught it with his free hand in a smooth, practiced motion, thumbing it open and shaking it over the bear in the sink.

 

Clara screamed once more as Joshua’s ghost appeared in front of her, trapping her against the door, strange claws going for her throat.

 

“Dean!” Andi screamed.

 

He struck the matches, dropping the whole package onto the bear as Sam took aim, searching for a clear shot in case the flames weren’t fast enough.

 

Thankfully, they were. Joshua screamed as they licked around his form, swallowing him whole.

 

Clara slumped against the door, breathing heavily. Andi noted this and ran to her. “Hey, hey, look at me.” she grabbed the stranger’s trembling hands. “It’s ok. He’s gone.”

 

“We need to get out of here.” Sam came up beside them. “Clara, hey. I’m guessing you live here in the neighborhood?”

 

She nodded silently, eyes wide.

 

“We’ll drive you back to your place so we know you get home safe, ok?”

 

She nodded once more, eyes riveted on Sam’s towering figure.

 

“Sam.” Andi’s voice sounded tense, strained. “Sam, something’s wrong.” Her head jerked to the side strangely. She dropped Clara’s hands and clutched her forehead, suddenly screaming out in pain. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She was dying. Oh gods, her head! Her vision went white, and she fell back into Sam’s arms.

 

“Andi!” he shouted, trying to lift her head with a hand. “Andi, look at me!”

 

“Sammy! Get her in the car!” Dean shouted as he walked briskly.

 

Sam scooped Andi up in his arms, nodding at Clara to open the door. She did, and the four of them spilled out onto the porch, running to the waiting Impala. A few curious heads poked out of doors, but seeing the unconscious girl in Sam’s arms, they ducked back in and drew the blinds.

 

“They won’t say anything.” the blonde woman told them as Dean opened the back door for Sam. “Gunshots aren’t that strange around here.”

 

Sam gently set Andi in the back seat, sliding in after her so that he could check on her as Dean drove.

 

Closing the door behind his brother, Dean opened the passenger door for Clara. “Get in.”

 

Once all four were settled, Dean drove away as nonchalantly as he could, considering they were fleeing a crime scene. Clara directed him to the other end of the park, thanking him as he pulled up in front of a neat double-wide with potted flowers on the porch.

 

“You’re welcome.” he said, pulling a card out of his back pocket. “If anything like this comes up again, feel free to give me a call.”

 

“And you?” she said shyly, looking over the seat at Sam, still cradling Andi.

 

“We work together, all three of us. You call him, I’ll be there too.”

 

“Thank you.” she repeated, this time staring at Sam with longing in her eyes. But Sam was looking at Andi once more, studying her pale cheeks and chafing her wrists in an attempt to wake her.

 

Clara stepped out of the car, watching as Dean threw it into drive and took off down the road, making for the motel. She stood there, watching, until the Impala’s taillights faded from view. The porch light came on, and an older man stuck out his head.

 

“Excuse me, miss, can I help you?”

 

“Oh no. Sorry to disturb you.” Clara smiled at him.

 

For a second the man could have sworn her eyes flashed green, with slits for pupils, but no. There they were, two normal blue eyes. Two beautiful, deep, sensuous eyes… “Would you like to come inside, miss? I could whip up something for you, if you’re hungry.”

 

“What a kind offer!” Clara replied. “On second thought, I suppose I am quite hungry.” Her smile widened, showing off a row of quite sharp teeth as she followed the man inside.


	8. Everytime You Say Goodbye (I Say Hello)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually post two chapters at a time, but the next one is going to start heading into the smutty-mc-smut-face direction, and I'm finding myself trying to avoid writing it for some reason...ugh. So here's one to make the wait more tolerable, for those who are following the story. I'll find courage soon, I promise.

_“Cassandra.”_

 

_Theseus’ whisper echoed strangely through the columns of the temple to Apollo. Tired after a long day attending the Oracle, Cassandra’s aching brain struggled to place it’s true origin. She wove through the pillars, trying to peek around the new veil covering her face without lifting it and risking a fellow priestess seeing her indiscretion. Finally, she caught sight of his shadow - merely a rough texture around the outline of the otherwise smooth shadow of a column. She smiled, and debated whether or not she should attempt to sneak up on him one last time, remembering the back-and-forth the two had developed on the road to Delphi. Deciding against it, she cleared her throat and walked past him, holding out her hand for him to grab. The two crouched, checked that the way was clear, then jumped together off the acropolis, hiding in the shadow of the stairs so they would not be discovered._

 

_“Hello, friend.” She smiled at him, forgetting he could not see her face beneath the veil._

 

_“Hello, sister.” he replied, reaching out to brush his fingers over the offending article. “I do wish I could see your face again before I must leave.”_

 

_“Leave? Have you spoken with the mistress already?”_

 

_“Yes. I put in my request as soon as we got here, and I received my reply shortly before the dinner hour. Unfortunately, I must return to Athens as soon as possible. The Tribute Taking is only a few weeks away, and I must give my answer to my father.”_

 

_Cassandra shook her head in an attempt to shake off the wave of visions crowding in unwelcome at his words._

 

_“Are you alright? Is it your head again?”_

 

_“Yes, the visions almost seem to be worse here. I am not sure if it is the crowds here in the city or the proximity to the temple. Regardless, it will be a while before the other priestesses take me seriously enough to train me, much less let me speak to the Oracle directly. I will need years to learn to control this power.”_

 

_“You do not have to stay here, you know. At my home in Athens, there is another temple to Apollo. I am sure the priestesses there would be able to help, and you could be our own Oracle. You would bring us glory! And...you know.” He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “You could be close to me.”_

 

_Cassandra debated for a moment telling him what she saw in his future. He would not believe her - that was her curse. But the idea sending him off heartbroken, not knowing why she couldn’t respond to him the same way, tore at her heart, bringing the sting of tears to her eyes. Instead she settled for political reasoning: a method a prince of his stature would understand._

 

_“I cannot follow you to Athens. I told you already; I was a princess of Troy. If it ever got out who and what I am, the consequences would be disastrous for us both.”_

 

_“The gods spared you! It is a sign; Apollo is protecting you.”_

_She laughed bitterly. “Not Apollo, no.”_

_“Be careful, my dear, you live in his house now.”_

_“I live in his house not because I want to but because I have nowhere else to go!”_

_“That’s not true!” His hands reflexively came up to cup her face. “That’s not true. Come back with me. Let me take care of you.”_

_“You would protect me from the gods themselves?” She shook her head, stepping back and gently pushing his hands from her. “Oh, foolish one. Go. Listen to what the Oracle told you, and do your duty to your city.”_

_“Very well.” His face fell, and he turned to look out over the city, feet shuffling. “I should go. It’s a long walk back to Athens, and I will need to rise early."_

_“Alright.”_

_“I suppose...farewell, then.”_

_Cassandra clenched her fists behind her back, desperately trying to hold herself back from flying into the arms of one of the few people in her life that had ever treated her with kindness and respect. She couldn’t do this, for both their sakes. “Farewell.”_

_He hesitated for a moment before turning and beginning to walk away. Suddenly he stopped and called out over his shoulder. “If I die in Crete, promise me you will warn the next hero who comes here seeking council of my fate. Send someone to avenge me.”_

_“IF you die,” she replied, carefully shaping her words to not overstep the boundaries of the order, “I promise to send scores of heroes to Crete, until that tyrant is overthrown. What he is doing is evil, and I will not tolerate it.”_

_“Thank you.” He continued walking down the hill, towards his quarters in the city._

_She watched his back until he rounded a corner in the Via Sacra, disappearing out of view. A sob tore through her, wracking her body as she found herself alone once more, trapped in servitude to a god who resented her._

_Why had she returned to Apollo? She could go anywhere, do anything. She was as close to being free as she had ever been. Then, to have met and to have loved the Athenian prince, of all people - and to have refused his offer of sanctuary - she could almost feel her heart cracking under the weight of hopelessness that came crashing down, covering her on all sides and constricting her like one of Apollo’s pythons. Her breathing tightened, and the world faded around her. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears, the light of the moon growing softer and more distant. She felt like she was floating in the sea. The ground tilted and rose to meet her..._

_Throwing out her arms, she managed to catch herself before she hit the stone pavement. Sharp pain radiated through her arms, jolting her back into reality. But now the terror had set in, and she felt as if eyes were everywhere, watching her, waiting for her to make a single mistake, to show an ounce of weakness they could pounce on and punish. She had to get out of here. Pushing herself off of her hands she broke into a run, barely remembering in her panic to keep to the shadows._

_She ran along the portico, then leapt out into the bushes, making for the theater at the base of Mt. Parnassus. If she could make it out onto the mountain, it would be easy to slip past the guards. After that...she shook her head, ignoring the prickle that warned her to stay in the city where she was safe. Her mind had greater fears than wolves and bandits. They could only hurt her body. Staying here felt like a danger to her very being._

______________________ _

_Having found refuge in the scant cover offered by some scrubby bushes on the mountainside, Cassandra took a moment to breathe. Everything felt clearer out here in the woods, sharper, cleaner, safer. Colder. She shivered, wishing she had had the presence of mind to grab a cover for herself, or at least some flint to light a fire. Her veil lay discarded in the dirt somewhere between her current position and the city, an act of freedom she now regretted._

_Feeling another wave of hopelessness, she gave up and lay in the dirt, staring up at the moon and stars as they danced over the mountain. What was she doing? Running away wouldn’t hide her from Apollo, or his curse. Her only hope was to remain at the temple and try to learn to harness her power. And yet, simultaneously the thought of returning, especially after successfully making it out of the city, seemed horrifying._

_"Athena, grant me wisdom.” she muttered, mostly out of habit._

_A silvery laugh startled her out of her thoughts, and she sat up suddenly. Coming down the mountain stepped a young woman with a bow strapped to her back, a silvery glow hovering around her, tracing her path as she came. “She won’t listen to you, you know. She still detests you and all your fallen kin for the rejection she suffered at the hands of your fool of a brother.”_

_“Who are you?” Cassandra asked, overcome with mingled terror and awe._

_“You know who I am. Don’t play games with me, child.” the woman answered sharply, eyes flashing in the moonlight._

_“Lady Artemis.”_

_“Of course. This may be my ingrate brother’s territory, but I am not forbidden from walking here.” Artemis rolled her eyes. “Yet.”_

_"Your ladyship.” Cassandra hurriedly bent her head in deference to the goddess._

_“None of that, my child. Not between us.” The silver huntress reached down, cupping her chin and drawing her to her feet. “We have too much in common, you and I.”_

_“You and I?” Cassandra laughed. “What on earth could I, a city girl, a princess, a priestess of your brother, have in common with you, the goddess of the hunt and the outdoors.” Her eyes dropped in shame. “My lady, I...I’m not even…”_

_“Hush, daughter.” Athena lay her finger over Cassandra’s lips. “What those men did to you is to their shame, not to yours. You need not confess to me as if you had committed a crime.” The grey eyes of the goddess grew tender. “If you had been under my protection, such a thing would never have happened to you.”_

_Cassandra’s eyes brimmed with tears at the kind words, lacking both the fear and resentment that had tinged her conversations in Troy as well as the triumph and mockery she had received from the Greeks. Theseus was the only other one who had spoken to her like this, but his first loyalty was to Athens, as it should be. Here, in the arms of the goddess, she felt a small ember of hope in her begin to burn once more._

_“Don’t cry, my child. I am here now. I will take care of you.”_

______________________ _

__Andi’s eyes burst open in panic. She felt a warm tightness around her chest and harsh light shone directly in her eyes. Holding back the urge to panic, she closed her eyes again and focused on her body, steadying her breathing, running her teeth lightly over her tongue. This is real. This is solid. She felt a pillow under her head and cloth over her body. Bed. She was in a bed. The tightness around her? She opened her eyes and looked down. An arm._ _

__

__It took a moment for that fact to register, before panic at the strange sight burst forth once more. She screamed, kicking and flailing her arms, pushing away from the body behind her and falling haphazardly onto the floor._ _

__

__Sam’s worried face appeared over the edge of the bed. “Andi! What’s wrong?”_ _

__

__“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON.”_ _

__

__“Jesus Christ, princess, I nearly shot you.” Dean said from behind her, groaning as he lay back down, dropping the gun next to him once he realized there was no danger._ _

__

__“WHY THE FUCK WAS YOUR ARM AROUND ME?!” Andi spat at Sam, leaping up and preparing for a fight._ _

__

__“Hey, hey. It’s ok. You’re ok.” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to - I must have fallen asleep.”_ _

__

__“What happened? How did we get back here?” she whirled around, examining the motel room for answers._ _

__

__“You freaked out again.” Dean answered, bluntly. “Went down and we had to drag your ass back here. Sam tried to wake you, but you were out cold. We were gonna take shifts watching you so you didn’t choke on your own vomit. I guess sleepy-head over here missed the turnover.”_ _

__

__“I am so, so sorry.” Sam repeated. “I never meant to. I just didn’t want you to be by yourself, in case something else happened.”_ _

__

__Cassandra felt her heart slowly returning to its steady beat. “Whatever, Sleeping Beauty. DON’T pull that again.”_ _

__

__“No, no, of course not. I’m sorry.”_ _

__

__She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, and yawned. “What happened with the case?”_ _

__

__“Got him.” Dean said shortly. “Open and shut. Let’s get dressed and get on the road.”_ _

__

__“I don’t...I don’t know. There’s something I can’t put my finger on. Something about this felt familiar…” Andi chewed her lip and looked thoughtful. “Didn’t it seem...too easy? Too cut and dry?”_ _

__

__The brothers exchanged a look._ _

__

__“What?”_ _

__

__They didn’t answer her._ _

__

__“What.”_ _

__

__“It seems done to me.” Dean couldn’t meet her eyes._ _

__

__“Bullshit. What aren’t you saying?”_ _

__

__“Andi.” Sam’s voice was steady and even, which irritated her even more. “We need to get you back to the bunker.”_ _

__

__“Because I passed out?”_ _

__

__“Yes, because you passed out.”_ _

__

__“Sam, that was a one time thing.”_ _

__

__He snorted. “One time? That was the third time we’ve seen you pass out in as many weeks. You need to go back to the bunker. Even if the case isn’t done; we’ll get another hunter to swing by to check on things. You need to rest.”_ _

__

__“Rest for what? All I’ve been doing for the last two weeks is resting. And look at you two - Dean’s been pulling his hair out sitting around the bunker. Didn’t you see how quickly he jumped in the Impala when you said you found a case?”_ _

__

__“Nu-uh. Don’t drag me into this.” Dean stood and went to grab his jeans. “I’m gonna go get breakfast. This had better be done when I get back.” He shuffled into the bathroom to get changed._ _

__

__“Train me.”_ _

__

__“What?” Sam looked confused. It didn’t help that his hair was still mussed from sleeping, his eyes bleary from lack of coffee. Andi couldn’t help but soften slightly as she looked at him - so she looked down at her feet to keep herself focused._ _

__

__“Train me. I’ll admit, it’s been a while. I could use a brush up. Plus, once you see how I handle myself in a fight you’ll trust me a bit more.”_ _

__

__“Andi, this isn’t about trust…”_ _

__

__“Isn’t it? You think I’m just going to fall over again, next time I’m in the field. You can’t trust me to have your back. I’m too weak.”_ _

__

__“That’s not it at all.”_ _

__

__“Yes, it is!”_ _

__

__The bathroom door opened and Dean walked out, not looking at either of them. Sam and Andi both fell silent as he strode through the room and out the door, slamming it behind him._ _

__

__Neither spoke in the quiet that followed. Finally Andi grabbed her bag and headed to the bathroom herself._ _

__

__“I want to make sure you’re ok before you do something that puts you in danger.” he said quickly, before she disappeared behind the door. “Dean and I will take care of ourselves; I want to make sure that you’re safe too.”_ _

__

__She slammed the bathroom door closed, making sure it was louder than Dean’s._ _

__

__Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, falling back on his pillow and staring at the ceiling. “It’s too early for this.” he muttered under his breath._ _

__

__In the bathroom, Andi huddled on the floor, trying with all of her strength not to give into the tears that caught in the back of her throat._ _


	9. Tryin' To Keep the Customer Satisfied

“You’re still hyperextending.” Sam steadied the punching bag and looked back at Andi, working to keep his eyes on her face and NOT following the rivulet of sweat that slowly traced her throat, working its way down to her navy blue sports bra. “You’re going to blow your elbow. Move a little closer, and watch the swing. You’ve got to predict how it’s going to move.”

 

“It’s a punching bag, Sam, I know how it’s going to move.” She wiped her forehead with her arm, panting. “That’s part of the problem. I’m overthinking it, expecting it to move like a creature.”

 

“Makes sense.”

 

“Why do the Men of Letters have a punching bag anyway?”

 

“They didn’t. I wanted a place to work out, so I cleared out the smallest storage room. Added some mats and a used bag.” He patted the bag with ill-disguised pride. “Perfect training ground.”

 

“Of course they wouldn’t have useful equipment.” Andi scoffed. “Bunch of stuck-up, useless bookworms.”

 

Sam studied her face, noting the tightness in her lips and eyebrows that disclosed her usually carefully hidden rage. “Are you ever going to tell me why you hate the Men of Letters so much?”

 

She sighed. “Some secrets are better left hidden.”

 

“Even between us?”

 

She glared at him, her eyes warning him to not take that line of questioning any further. “Again.” she said curtly.

 

Sam shook his head. “Let’s call it a day. I don’t want you to over exert yourself.”

 

Andi laughed dryly. “We’re not even close to that.”

 

“Oh?” He checked his watch. “How much more you got in you?”

 

She tilted her head, running through a mental inventory of her muscles and remaining energy. “I’ve got about another half hour.”

 

“Ok. In that case, let’s spar and see if that helps with the overthinking.”

 

“Finally.” She grinned, showing her teeth and squatting into a ready stance, fists guarding her face. “Come at me.”

 

“Oh no, you come at me. There’ll be less blood that way.” he shook his head to clear the hair from his eyes.

 

“Suit yourself, Samwise.” Her grin widened, and she threw a punch at his face, intentionally not putting her weight behind it.

 

He easily parried, about to ask her if that was the best she could do when her roundhouse kick nailed him solidly in his ribs, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He gasped in surprise, clutching his side.

 

“You ok, Sammy?” she asked, a deceptively innocent look on her face.

 

“Yeah.” Sam winced. “Good power. You almost broke a rib.”

 

“Almost? I’d better work harder, then.” She raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

 

“Again.” He settled into his own stance, eyeing her shoulders to follow how she shifted her weight, predicting her motions.

 

This time Andi went for the face, landing a flurry of punches Sam barely managed to block before he twisted his body, checking her advance with his shoulder and shoving her backward. She stumbled and fell to the mat, immediately looking for his attack, for him to press his advantage. He didn’t, instead stepping back and waiting for her to get up.

 

“Come on, Sam!” she shouted as she rose. “Stop holding back!” She thumped her fists to her chest, challenging him.

 

Instead of replying he merely returned to his stance, fists ready.

 

The pair circled each other, waiting for an opening. She could see in his eyes that he had brought his guard up. Now he knew what she was capable of, and he wouldn’t let her get the upper hand again. She would have to switch tactics, relying on speed and momentum to bring the towering hunter down.

 

Trying another feint, which he ignored without batting an eye, she went for another roundhouse kick to his other side. Just as she predicted he grabbed her leg, blocking her initial attack but leaving his body undefended. Lightning quick, she landed a solid punch to his solar plexus. He grunted in pain, pushing her gently back with open palms.

 

“Hit me!” she screamed at him. “Come on, hit me!” with a shove to his shoulders. “Hit me!” Her voice cracked, hinting at the fear hiding behind her rage. She needed him to hit her - to show her that he wasn’t terrified of breaking her, that he knew she was strong. 

 

Sam sighed. “No.” He looked at her evenly and gently, trying to push all the compassion and empathy he felt welling in his chest for her into his eyes.

 

Andi’s shoulders slumped in despair. She felt defeated - he would never see her as an equal, a warrior in her own right. “Fine.” she spat out in frustration, throwing her arms up in mock surrender. “I’ll give you a break.”

 

Turning away from him she burst through the door before he could say something kind and tender, something that would forever lock her into the role of damsel-in-distress. She ran from his pity, his kindness, his gentle hazel eyes that reminded her so much of all she had lost through the years. Aiming for Dean’s room, where he was sure to be holed up with a bottle of whiskey, she stormed down the hallway, muttering under her breath about ‘men’ and ‘heroes.’

 

The whine of an electric guitar wound its way down the hallway to her ears, lifting the corners of her mouth into a knowing smile. _I knew it,_ she thought. She reached Dean’s door and pounded on it with a closed fist, startling him if the sudden thump and muffled curses were any indication. “Dean?” she called, resting her forehead on the door. “You got a minute?”

 

The door opened, bringing with it a swirl of Lynyrd Skynyrd; Dean’s worried face appeared in the open crack. “Hey. What’s up?”

 

“I’m exhausted. I guessed you’d be drinking, and I thought I would join you.”

 

He grinned, gesturing into his room towards the open bottle and the blaring stereo. “How’d you know?”

 

“It’s been a couple days since the hunt. Figured you’d be getting restless again.” She threw herself backward onto the bed, grabbing the bottle and taking a pull with a satisfied sigh.

 

“Well, you got me.” he closed the door behind her, reaching to take back the bottle, “Hey! Don’t drink it all. Share.”

 

Andi snickered. “The bottle’s half empty. So much for sharing.”

 

“This is mine. I’ve been working on it for a couple months.” he tipped the bottle, pouring a generous shot into his glass. “And I, at least, drink from a glass.”

 

“Oh yes. Dean Winchester, the sophisticate. Sorry, I forgot.” she giggled, miming drinking from a teacup with her pinky outstretched.

 

“Damn straight.” he tried to look offended, but couldn’t help cracking a dry smile. “So what are you doing here? Thought you’d be training with Sam.”

 

“I was.” she sighed. “But I’m done for the day. I got tired of being his fragile little kitten that needs protecting. Need some grown-up time.”

 

“Oh?” a smug smirk spread across his face as the music rose to a crescendo.

 

“Shut up and pass the bottle back.” she lightly kicked at his chest.

 

Instead, he downed his drink, pouring another shot and handing her the glass. “Nah. Don’t want to go through it too fast.” He stoppered the bottle in a practiced motion, setting it by the door to return to the kitchen later before plopping on his bed next to her. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind instead?”

 

“Who said there’s anything on my mind?”

 

“Right, you decided to come drink with me because you missed our ‘special time’ so badly.” he said sarcastically.

 

She merely glared at him in response.

 

“Well, princess, maybe when we’re done braiding each other’s hair and telling each other ghost stories you can finally get around to explaining why you insist on fighting US so damn much.”

 

“I’m not weak.” she burst out.

 

“Never said you were.”

 

She stared at the glass in silence, amber alcohol untouched. “I have...issues.”

 

“So do I.”

 

They looked each other in the eyes, guarded, sizing one another up. Andi looked away first, taking a small sip of the whiskey before setting the glass on the bedside table and leaning up against the headboard. “I was married, you know. Well, I’ve been married a few times through the years.” she corrected herself with a bitter laugh. “But this last one...he was important. His life was so small, so meaningless, but he was so...GOOD. He was really, really good, and kind.” her voice cracked a bit, and she looked down. “He died.”

 

Dean stared at his feet, unsure of himself in the sudden somber tone of the conversation. “I’m sorry.” he offered.

 

“Thanks.”

 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence offset by the harsh pace of the stereo while he waited for her to continue.

 

Finally, she spoke again, “Life was quiet with him. I got used to not having many visions, to a simple life as farmers. As soon as he was gone, they came back in full force. It’s been...hard.”

 

“How long?”

 

She didn’t even have to think before she answered. “154 years last September. Antietam.”

 

Dean let out a low whistle. “Damn.” He still wasn’t sure how to process the fact that what to him was merely dates and places in the history books were to her living, breathing memories.

 

She continued. “When Cas put up the barrier...that was the first time I’d felt whole since Johnny died. I didn’t realize how much I had missed this feeling. I want to…” she rubbed her hands on her face, losing words for a moment.

 

“Headache?” Dean asked, worry knitting his brow.

 

She laughed, throwing up her hands. “No! And that’s my point. You two see where I am and think ‘oh poor her.’ I see how much stronger I am compared to where I was a month ago - a year ago.” She sat up in eager excitement. “Dean, I can walk down a busy sidewalk and look people in the eye without collapsing. It’s...it’s a miracle, honestly.”

 

He nodded quietly, to show that he understood, though he wasn’t sure if he actually did.

 

“I have no idea what happened to me when we were in Harper, but that was different. That wasn’t the curse - or rather, it wasn’t just the curse. Something was wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it.” With a growl of frustration she jumped off the bed and began pacing around the room, rubbing the back of her neck. A few moments of silent thought passed before she whirled around and stared at Dean with suspicious eyes. “Do you believe me?”

 

“Yeah.” He said simply, with no preamble or explanation.

 

Relief softened her face, and she closed her eyes with a sigh. “Thank you.”

 

A guitar riff screamed its final notes before fading into silence, the click of the tape indicating that it had run its course. Heavy footfalls approached the door before pausing, then continuing on. Andi and Dean tracked the sound through the walls with their eyes, appearing for all the world to be twin hunters for a moment. Dean glanced sideways at her from under his eyelashes, feeling suddenly defensive and guarded.

 

“Just go tell him. He’s better at this stuff than I am, anyway.” he said gruffly, standing.

 

“Different.” she corrected. “Not better, different.”

 

“Besides,” he broke in before she could continue, “he likes you.”

 

“I thought so.” Andi replied quietly.

 

“He’s had a rough time the last couple years. I haven’t exactly been an all-star brother.” Dean threw out his arms, flashing her a self-deprecating grin.

 

“Something tells me he never expected you to be.”

 

“Yeah.” Dean looked uncomfortable to find himself suddenly no longer able to hide behind his joke. “Sounds like Sammy.”

 

With a smile of acknowledgement, Andi left Dean to himself, stepping out into the hallway and looking nervously towards Sam’s room. She hovered for a moment, torn, before choosing to walk towards the gentle giant, her stomach twisting with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

 

She reached his closed door and stood staring at the Men of Letters symbol emblazoned on it. It was everywhere in the bunker, understandably, but on Sam’s door it seemed more weighty. Here it mocked her, taunted her, reminded her of the ever-present war that had pursued her over the centuries. A wave of exhaustion came over her and she stepped back, uncertain once more.

 

Before she had a chance to decide whether to knock or run, Sam’s door opened. He started to see her in front of him, but quickly recovered with an apologetic look on his face.

 

“Andi, I’m so…”

 

“Shut up.” she growled, twisting her fingers in the front of his shirt and fiercely pulling him towards her, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

 

At first he resisted, but when he realized what she was doing he eagerly leaned into the kiss, stooping and easily lifting her ass up towards him.

 

She jumped out of instinct, using the momentum to wrap her legs around his hips and down his thighs, grinding into him. Feeling her warmth on his cock even through the layers of fabric that still separated them, Sam groaned into her mouth, nipping lightly on her bottom lip.

 

Andi hummed in response, nuzzling her face into his throat. “Just take me already, Sam.” she whispered in his ear.

 

Needing no further encouragement, Sam turned them towards his bed, slamming his door closed behind them with one hand, still clutching her to him with the other. He dumped her on her back onto the mattress, and ran his hand down her cheek with a awed look on his face. She smiled, leaning into his gentle touch. “God, you’re beautiful.” he whispered to her, finally letting his eyes wander to all the places on her body they had been trying to avoid for weeks now.

 

His fingertips continued their journey down her jaw to her throat, then followed the trail her sweat had taken while they sparred. When they reached her sports bra he paused and looked into her eyes, silently asking for permission.

 

She nodded, eyes hooded and breathing heavy, watching him watch her, cherishing the power she had over him.

 

Sam’s fingers flew to the elastic under the curve of her breasts, lifting it up and over her head to reveal her bare chest. He groaned in appreciation, gently lipping at first one nipple then the other, teasing them into stiff points. Kissing down her chest and her stomach, he tugged gently on the waistband of her shorts, prompting Andi to lift her hips so he could slide off her bottoms. She obliged with a wicked crook of an eyebrow and a throaty chuckle, teasing him lightly but urging him on.

 

Once he had tossed both her shorts and her cotton underwear over his shoulder, he paused, looking down at the gorgeous, olive-skinned woman that sprawled out unashamed across his bedspread. He shook his head with a grin, saying “how did I ever find someone like you?”

 

“You didn’t.” she reminded him as she sat up, lifting the up the hem of his shirt for him to pull it over his head. “I found you.”

 

“I suppose you did.” he replied, grinning broadly as his shirt joined a growing pile of clothes on the floor. “Oh Andi.” he moaned, leaning over and touching his forehead to hers. “I held you in the back of the car last week as we went back to the motel. All I wanted to do was kiss you like this.” he lightly kissed her on the lips. “And this.” he kissed her again, on her chest right in the valley between her breasts. “And this.” again on her stomach. His voice took on a low growl as he bent even lower: “and this.” He kissed right above the mound of dark curls that covered her sex.

 

Andi’s breath quickened at the touch of his lips. She couldn’t help but buck up into him at the feeling of his hot breath on her skin. Sam chuckled darkly, seeing her eagerness. “Not yet, sweetheart.” He kissed her mound once more as he straightened, towering over her prone form as he undid the button on his jeans, his cock straining against the fabric.

 

Andi’s thighs clenched in anticipation as he stepped out of his jeans and boxers, revealing his length in all its glory. She had seen men of all shapes and sizes over the years, but Sam Winchester was unique. He was long, thick, and angry red, already weeping pre-cum from his tip as he looked down at her.

 

Sam groaned, stroking himself slowly as he watched her eyes take him in. “See what you do to me? See how much I want you, Andi?”

 

“Fuck me, Sam.” she breathed, grinding her pelvis up into the empty air.

 

He roughly pushed her back onto the bed with one hand as he climbed up to join her, straddling her legs with his own. “How do you want me to fuck you?” His voice had grown deep and commanding, sending a shiver up and down Andi’s spine.

 

“However you want.” she hummed with a lilt in her voice, smiling up at him.

 

“Oh?” he bent and whispered in her ear, pressing light kisses down her throat once more. “However I want?”

 

“Whatever you want, Sam.” she cried out, pressing her body up into his and rubbing her wet heat along his firm erection.

 

He let out a noise that was almost a snarl in his primal need, and flipped her over onto her stomach in one smooth motion. Using both hands, he massaged her ass cheeks, tugging and pulling on them to reveal more of her body to his searching eyes. “So beautiful…” he murmured, sliding a finger between her folds, readying her.

 

Andi cried out as he sunk his finger into her, up to the second knuckle, thrusting in and out gently. He added a second finger, scissoring his fingers back and forth to slowly open her up. “So tight for me, Andi.” he moaned, hips thrusting forward a bit in spite of himself as he reached over to his bedside table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a condom.

 

Andi closed her eyes, arching her back and trying to make noises that might sound encouraging, needy, guttural, working hard to keep herself present in the moment and not in any one of a thousand scenes from her past. She was with Sam, she reminded herself. Sam is safe. I am safe.

 

Oblivious to her state of mind, he rolled a condom over himself and sunk into her, telling her how good she felt, how warm and tight. He thrust into her, over and over, grunting with pleasure and joy.

 

Returning to herself, Andi angled her hips to meet his pace, matching his noises with her own breathy moans. Pleasure began to gather in her core, a tightening knot that blessedly grew and grew within her. She focused on that feeling, encouraging Sam to go harder and deeper. He responded by snapping his hips faster, bracing himself with one leg on the floor as he rammed into her, hard.

 

The knot snapped in an instant, and Andi found herself calling out Sam’s name as she came unexpectedly, riding out the waves that coursed through her with a shiver. His orgasm came not long after; he spilled into the condom with a cry of her name, slumping on top of her body in a heap of sweat and tangled limbs. After a moment he pulled out of her and tied off the condom, somehow tossing it into a trash can by his desk.

 

Sam rolled over onto his back, exhausted and panting. He reached down, pulling the covers up and over both of them as Andi nestled into the crook of his arm. They lay there, cuddled into the curve of each other’s bodies, letting tension seep from their muscles as they listened to the other breathe. Finally, Sam reached over and turned off his lamp, silently voting for a nap.

 

Andi didn’t protest, but as Sam’s breathing grew quiet and even she stared off into the darkness, feeling strangely empty and numb despite the intimate embrace.

 

Alone in his room, Dean reached out for the bottle he had placed by the door, changing both his mind and the tape in the stereo, blasting his music to drown out the rest of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this is so bad. AUGH. I feel uncomfortable. Also disappointed in my girl, even though I wrote it and I've known this scene was coming (hehe, pun unintended) almost since I started writing this fic. THIS IS NOT HEALTHY, OBVI. It gets better, I swear, for everyone.


	10. You Fall Away From Your Past

Andi’s eyes blinked open for seemingly no reason - no alarm, no sudden noise, no stimulus of any kind. One moment she had been in deep, dreamless sleep; the next, she was silently, perfectly awake. She stared across the room, her mind taking time to catch up with her surroundings. _Desk. Papers. Papers on my desk? Sam. Sam's room. I slept with Sam._ She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, the warmth from a body at her back finally registering. _I slept with Sam. It's Rome all over again. Damn it, Andi._ She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, feeling the pressure rising in her chest. _Ok. Five things I can see: desk, lamp, chair, phone, blanket. She counted off in her head. Four things I can feel: sheets, myself, pillow...Sam. Sam is ok. I am safe._ She felt the body behind her shift and hum. An arm arced over her waist, snaking around her body and her knees. Pausing in confusion, it pawed at her knees, trying to place them. After a moment, his legs began to explore the area where hers should have been before Sam's entire body curled around her, encasing her in warmth.

"Do you always sleep curled up like this?" he murmured into her ear, voice husky with sleep. "You feel so small. I just want to hold you and keep you safe." His arm tightened around her, thumb gently tracing circles on her knee.

"I'm going to make myself some coffee." Andi said abruptly, pulling herself out of his embrace. "Do you want any?"

"I...um, no, not right now." he searched her face with a feigned smile, trying to read her expression while hiding his own uneasiness.

Seeing this, Andi gave him a gentle smile, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. She tried to linger there affectionately in an effort to ease some of his concern, drawing her fingertips lightly over his cheek. “Ok.” She headed for the door.

“You should probably put some clothes on.” he noted with a wry smile. “Although I do enjoy the view.”

Andi blushed furiously and grabbed her shorts and Sam’s flannel from the floor, slipping into them without looking at the man grinning at her from under the sheets. It took almost all she had to open the door and step into the hallway without bolting. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath. _Go make coffee!_ she instructed herself.

An exhausted looking Dean greeted her with a grunt as she entered the kitchen. Andi gave him a stoic nod, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

“No coffee.” Dean grumbled over his shoulder. “Grinder’s out.”

“Grinder’s out?” she asked, half incredulous at the unexpected roadblock, half sleepy. “Why is the grinder out?”

“Dunno. Just won’t grind the beans.” Dean muttered. Andi saw now that he had resorted to just staring at an empty coffee mug.

“Oh for…” she stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Dean watched her retreat through the fog of a hangover migraine. He intended to ask where she was going, but by the time the words bubbled up and out of his mouth she had long since disappeared. So he continued sitting, staring at the empty mug, trying not to think about why she was wearing Sam’s shirt. He sat there for several minutes before she returned, gripping a hammer tightly, her face unreadable. “What are you do…”

She ignored him, marching straight over to the bag of coffee beans and slamming the hammer down on the counter.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

“SONUVABITCH, STOP.” Dean bellowed at her. “Jesus Christ! I just woke up!”

Andi sighed. “It’s not working, anyway. The pieces are just going everywhere.” She dropped the hammer on the counter with one last satisfying BANG and slumped onto the floor. “I can’t even get coffee when I need it.” She lay back onto the floor, hair spilling around her shoulders, framing her face, and reached up towards the counter above her. “It’s right there - the caffeine. It’s taunting me.”

Sam skidded around the corner in a wifebeater and boxers, hair going everywhere. “What’s going on? What was that noise?”

“Andi tried to make coffee with a hammer...”

“So close, but so far...” the words drifted up from the floor with a half-sob.

“...and now she’s having some sort of existential crisis.” Dean finished, rubbing his forehead.

Sam cocked an eyebrow with a grin. “Existential?”

“Hey, I read!” Dean rose, leaving his empty mug behind. “You two are too loud for this early in the morning. I’m going back to bed.”

Gazing fondly at the sleepy puddle of hair and limbs on the floor, Sam’s grin settled into a gentle, happy smile. “How’s the floor?”

“Cold.”

He walked over to her and held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a run.”

“Ugh, that sounds horrible.”

“Come on. It’ll wake you up. Better than caffeine!”

“No such thing.”

He just waited, hand still outstretched, puppy-eyes pleading.

“Fine.” she let him help her up and followed him back to his room to change.

___________________

A dense fog hovered over the road, making the air thick and silent, swallowing all sounds but that of Sam’s feet and Andi’s breathing. She tried not to look over at him, feeling instinctively that he was holding back in order to keep pace with her. Instead she looked around at the sparse woods surrounding the bunker, fading neatly into the fog. It was a peaceful scene - beautiful in shades of grey - the calm before the storm. _That’s what it is,_ Andi thought to herself. _Something is coming._ She straightened her shoulders as she ran. If a fight was coming, she wanted to be ready. She was built for war, not for stagnating in a bunker. In fact, if she was being honest, she craved fighting. She missed the rush and the adrenaline. Sparring with Sam had started to scratch that itch, but he was too gentle. She wanted a challenge - a challenge and a reason to fight.

Suddenly Sam stopped, throwing out his arm to catch her by the shoulder, breaking her reverie. “Look.” he whispered, pointing out into the fog.

A doe stood, peeking around a tree, eyeing the two of them curiously.

“It’s not even scared of us.” Sam breathed out in wonder.

“No, she isn’t...” Andi agreed, furrowing her brow in confusion. _Why is she not...oh. There you are._ “She isn’t scared at all.” She stepped closer, raising her voice. “Although, she has no reason to be. It’s been a long time, my lady.”

A silvery laugh echoed around them, bouncing through the trees. Sam whirled around, pulling a knife from seemingly nowhere, searching for the source of the sound. When he turned back around, the doe had vanished. In her place stood a tall, regal woman dressed in leather, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, cruel eyes flashing.

“Well, well, daughter, I am pleased to see you haven’t lost your edge.”

“Lady Artemis.” Andi spat, her fists clenching in anger. “What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think I’m here, girl?” Artemis replied with a smile. “I’m here for you.”

“How did you find me?”

The goddess laughed. “Oh my dear, ridiculous child, we never lost you. We’ve known exactly where you are for most of your life.”

“We?” Andi glanced around the woods nervously.

“My brother, of course. Oh don’t worry, he isn’t here.” she grinned. “Yet. But we don’t have long. I have need of you.”

Andi burst out laughing, turning to the side and scratching her head. “Oh really. You have need of me? Of course you do. What is it now, inspiring the new recruits? Or maybe consulting the fates?” her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Did you ever think there might be a reason why they aren’t willing to talk to you? You’re a bit of a control freak.”

“Silence!” Artemis threw up her hand. In response Andi’s body flew upwards, rigid from the goddess’s power. “You will speak to me with respect.”

“Why?” Andi countered boldly, throat twitching with effort. “I know you too well for that. Besides, that whole not being able to die thing really cramps your style.”

“That may be true,” the goddess smiled, stepping closer, “but you are not the same as I left you. I can feel that wall in your mind, holding back my brother’s power. Quite a feeble thing - easy to undo.”

“You bitch!” Andi’s eyes sparked angrily.

Artemis released her hold, letting Andi crumple to the ground. “Are you ready to listen now?”

Andi stood, dusting herself off, then leveled a glare at the goddess. Without breaking eye contact she made a mocking curtsy. “What are your divine orders, oh my lady.”

Artemis rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment. “You falling in with these hunters has raised quite a stir. My brother believes me to be making a grab for power within the Pantheon, now that Hades is gone.”

“Hades too? Well, well, well. The Pantheon is falling apart at the seams.”

“Enough.” Artemis stepped closer. “This is a serious matter. Apollo has allowed Delphyne to return to the world in retaliation for my supposed coup.”

“Who is Delphyne?” Sam cut in for the first time. Both women turned to look at him, having nearly forgotten he was there.

“Sam Winchester.” Andi began, by way of introduction.

“We’ve met.” Artemis replied curtly.

Andi raised her eyebrows at Sam, receiving a tacit nod acknowledging the acquaintance. “Impressive. You boys do get around.”

He looked at her expectantly.

Andi sighed. “Delphyne was a shapeshifting serpent. Apollo conquered her at Delphi and in return the citizens dedicated the town to him.”

“Yeah, the Oracle at…” he stopped when he saw her grin. “That was you.”

“For many years, yes.” Andi nodded.

“It gave us plenty of opportunity to enact our scheme.” Artemis added, with a proud smile.

“Your scheme.” snapped Andi.

“What scheme?” Sam felt lost once more.

“Irrelevant. Cassandra, you must find her and remove her from the equation. Else I will be forced to return you to your, shall we say, previous state.” the goddess finished with a feral grin.

“How exactly do you expect me to find her?”

It was Artemis’ turn to laugh heartily. “After all I’ve watched you do through the years, oh Mother of Hunters, this would be a simple task for you. Even so, you have an easy starting place - you’ve already seen her.” With those final words, the goddess stepped back, drawing fog around her like a curtain and fading from view.

“She does enjoy a dramatic exit.” Sam mused, staring into the woods after her.

“Son of a bitch.” Andi muttered, her face lighting up with sudden clarity. “It all makes sense now.”

“What does?”

She looked up at him, eyes dark with rage. “We need to get back to Dean.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

By this time Andi had broken into a full sprint back down the road, exhaustion forgotten and mornings be damned. “I knew that hunt wasn’t over!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (did anybody catch the pun towards the end? it was subtle. I'm way too proud of myself! *runs away giggling*)


	11. (But It's Following You)

Andi burst through the door of the bunker, bounding down the stairs two at a time and making a beeline for the dormitories. Sam followed after, struggling to keep up even with his long legs.

“Andi, wait!”

“No, Sam. You don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand. Will you just stop and explain it to me?”

“This is my mess. I should have finished it a long time ago.” Andi whipped around the corner, nearly colliding with Dean as he approached the library.

“Whoa there, what’s the hurry?” Dean put up his hands to block her.

“Dean, move. I need to get back to Harper.”

“You need to what now? What happened?”

“Artemis just popped in for a visit while we were on a run.” Sam began as he made his way towards the two of them, breathing heavily.

“What, like _Artemis_ Artemis? The Cat-woman wannabe with the bow and arrow?”

Andi let out an inadvertent snort, sharing a grin with Dean. “Good one. Now move.”

“No. Not until you explain to us what is going on.” Sam’s commanding tone froze everyone in their steps. He sighed, looking down at his feet in frustration. “Ever since you came here you’ve been dropping hints about this and glazing over that. I get that you want to keep some parts of your life to yourself, really I do, but whatever’s going on here is starting to affect all of us. You need to tell us what is going on.”

She ran her hands through her hair nervously, not meeting their curious eyes. 

“Sit.” Dean ordered quietly, pointing at one of the leather armchairs, keeping his face carefully emotionless.

Andi obligingly returned to the library, then in her usual contrary fashion hopped up onto one of the tables, crossing her legs and staring at the floor. The brothers exchanged looks, settling into armchairs themselves and waiting for her to speak.

She began abruptly. “You know I was born to Priam and Hecuba in Troy, long before the war began. I was a twin - my brother Helenus and I both had the gift of true-sight, which was fantastic for him. He was a prince after all, and a warrior. But I was a princess with only two options: make a strategic marriage and serve my husband, or join a temple as a priestess. I chose to serve at the temple of Apollo in Troy because that seemed like the best place to hone my craft. One day Apollo appeared to me - he said he had been watching me, and he thought I would be useful to him, serving in Crete with one of his cults in exchange for power and knowledge. I refused. I could tell something was wrong, and I was afraid. He...he threatened me, but I refused to go with him. So he cursed me to have great power and foresight but never be believed until I felt in my bones the futility of crossing the gods.”

“Wow. That’s uh, that’s not what the history books say.” Dean broke in awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes. “Trust me; I’m very aware. But the men who wrote history have no concept of how to approach a woman outside of her sexuality. I mean, just look at Helen. She’s either a whore or an idiot, depending on who you read. In reality, she was a very brilliant and manipulative woman with a sharp wit. Honestly, her affair with Paris was her idea. She could have been a magnificent queen. Instead she died a prisoner in her husband’s home.”

Sam grunted sympathetically, brow furrowed.

Andi’s eyes flew to his face. “Don’t feel too sorry for her. She was an awful person.” she said with a shake of her head before continuing.

“Apollo never told me what the purpose of his cult was, nor why he wanted me there. So when I woke up in a field outside of Mycenae, freshly resurrected, I wandered to his temple at Delphi. I didn’t know where else to go. Artemis met me in the wilderness outside of the city. I should have run from her - I should have known better than to trust the gods, but I felt safe with her for the first time since I was a little girl.”

Andi could feel the intensity of the brothers’ eyes on her; she kept her eyes on the floor as she continued, kicking her legs back and forth to release some of her nervous energy. “She told me she understood my grief, told me that everything that had happened to me was Apollo’s fault. She explained that the cult on Crete, known as the Labryaeans, was an ancient cult devoted to gaining political and religious power through terror and manipulation. They bred and controlled monstrous beasts, terrorizing the common peoples in order to maintain their own status. I was horrified, even more desperate to escape Apollo’s clutches, but she instructed me to stay, to infiltrate the temple as her own agent. We planned to use my role as an Oracle to commission heroes to slay the Labryaean creations, protecting people from the tyranny of the powerful elite. With her help, I quickly rose through the ranks in Delphi, forming a loose affiliation of heroes I called the Agroteraeons - wilderness men. Artemis was more direct. She was the huntress; she called them her Hunters.”

“Wait.” Sam broke in. “Are you saying you...you founded the hunters?”

“In a way. Before I joined Artemis in her campaign there were many who hunted monsters, even hunting the Labryaean creations, but we tried to bring those people together into an army, waging a subtle war behind the scenes to free the people from the Labryaean reign of terror. Or so I thought. I didn’t see that she was just using me to settle a power struggle with her brother. In the end I saw she was no better than Apollo.” Andi ran her fingers through her hair anxiously. “You’ve got to understand; I needed a purpose for my life, something to do with all the pain and anger that fermented in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t supposed to be alive! Most days I didn’t even want to be alive, and yet I was. I needed that to mean something. But no matter what we did,” she stopped, momentarily losing herself to a wave of memories “no matter what we did the situation only escalated.”

Dean was nodding silently, staring at the floor. Sam leaned forward onto his elbows. “How does Delphyne fit into all of this?”

“Delphyne was a dragon, the mother of Typhon. She terrorized the world long before even I was born. I believed she was a myth, until I met her. Apollo tamed her, setting her up as his mouthpiece. She was the original Oracle at Delphi, until I came along. When my priestesses and I seized control of the temple Delphyne and those loyal to her fled to Crete, where the Labryaeans ruled. Eventually Apollo sent her on to Claros to begin a rival Oracular seat.” She stopped and looked Sam in the eyes. “Get it? Claros. Clara.”

Sam nodded, turning to Dean. “Andi thinks Clara from the last case was this dragon, Delphyne. It makes sense with what Artemis told us.”

“He’s taunting me.” Andi buried her face in her hands, shoulders slumping. Suddenly she jumped off the table and started marching towards her room once more. “I’ve got to get there and find her. Whatever’s going on I need to stop her.” 

“Hold up, we’re coming with you.” Dean rose, giving the arms of his chair a final slap.

“Like hell you are!”

“Listen, princess. We can do the whole back and forth thing where you try to keep Sam and I from following you, but all three of us know that we’re going to anyway. So why don’t you just cut the crap and let us come with you. We aren’t going to let you face down fucking Greek gods and and an ancient, bitchy dragon by yourself.”

Andi narrowed her eyes, glaring at him before blurting “Fine.” and marching off to pack.

___________________

A quiet knock on her door startled Andi, already on edge from the events of the day. She jumped, dropping her latest thrift store purchase, a Fed suit pencil skirt, on the floor, swearing under her breath. “Who is it?”

“Athena.” Andi could hear the grin in Sam’s voice even through the door. She opened it for him, leaning against the frame.

“How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

“An embarrassingly long time.” he admitted. “Hey, are you ok?”

Andi let out a long breath, rubbing a bare toe along the floor. “No.” she answered simply.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. There’s not much to talk about.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get it; I really do. But if you do need someone to talk to, or if you need anything really, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, definitely. Will you be ready to head out in about ten minutes?”

Andi nodded, pointing back to the duffle on her bed. “Almost done.”

“Ok.” Sam started to walk away, but stopped when she called his name. “Yeah?”

“So, um…” Andi resumed rubbing her toe across the floor. “We’re all going to have a lot to think about while we deal with this mess. It would probably be best if we focused on the problem at hand and didn’t, you know, repeat last night.”

“Of course. Yeah. That’s fine. Yeah. I’m gonna…” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, then turned and strode quickly down the hallway.

Andi closed the door to her room once more, resting her forehead on it, exhaling sharply. “Well, this is going to be a disaster.”


	12. Fire and Foreboding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, y'all, I'm hitting that slug stage. Struggling to keep the pace and not just jump on to the crescendo. AUGH, actual work. Bleh. Murph. Anyway. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to those of y'all who are actually following along with me! I love you :)

_The royal guard escorting Lady Alessandra into the throne room pushed her roughly from behind. She landed hard on the stone pavement, wincing as her knees made contact._

_“Your Majesty,” began the Count-Duke Olivares, “we, the Learned Ones, bring this woman before you today to declare her guilty of conspiracy against the Crown, moral corruption within the Court, spiritualism, paganism, and, most heinous of all, witchcraft.”_

_The kneeling lady dropped her head onto her chest and began to giggle, the sound of her laughter echoing dully in the crowded hall, drawing the low murmurs from the crowd surrounding her into a stunned silence._

_His Majesty rose, casting his stern, imperial gaze down to the woman below him, stripped of her finery. “Do you find your situation amusing, Lady Alessandra?”_

_She rolled her head along her shoulder, twisting her neck sideways to look directly at the king, silver lightning flashing in her eyes as she spat out her reply. “Not at all, my king, only the title my lord the Count insists on giving to his fellow terrorists. ‘Learned Ones’ - as if they carry some long-forgotten knowledge within their order, when in truth they are merely men: too in love with their dicks to join the Church, too terrified of blood to join the army.”_

_A collective gasp went up throughout the crowd, followed by light tittering and a few hidden grins. Count Olivares seethed, face going red with rage. He stared at his prisoner for a moment, unable to choke out an exclamation in his wrath, then slapped her across the face hard enough to knock her into the pavement._

_Alessandra felt more than heard a low crunch as her face made contact with stone. Blood began trickling down her lips, staining her skin and clothes._

_“So much for being afraid of blood.” he hissed in her ear, stooping to make sure that she, and she alone, heard his bitter words. Straightening, he continued. “I apologize for this vile woman, your majesty. Yet you have heard with your own ears how she speaks. She has no respect for authority - no sense of decency - and her ramblings bring chaos into this very court! Our nation stands on the brink of war; we cannot allow such disrespect to go unpunished.”_

_“My friend, I am quite aware of the state of my reign - might I remind you that it does not become a Minister of the Court to speak so frankly of political affairs in hearing of the public ear? But stay,” his Majesty raised a bejeweled hand, motioning Olivares to refrain from performing the elaborate bow he was attempting to make. “I believe you and the Cardinal had more relevant accusations of witchcraft to address.”_

_“Yes, and paganism, my Lord King!” burst in a man with a drawn face, positively drowning in his austere, crimson robes._

_“And paganism!” added Olivares for emphasis._

_“What do you have to say in response to these charges?” the king sank back down on his throne, gathering his robes around him as he prepared to make a judgement._

_Alessandra never even considered making a plea. She had known her fate as soon as the guard burst through her door - the same fate as hundreds of other women across the Empire: some guilty, most not. This was not the first time she had been accused of witchcraft, and she doubted it would be her last. Instead, she straightened her head and stared down the king, defiant to the end. She waited a beat before whipping her head to the side, spitting on the robes of the Count as he stood next to her. Her watchful guard immediately brought the butt of his pike down on her head, and the world went dark._

_Weeks of imprisonment later, she was brought out into a courtyard, alongside two other alleged witches, lashed to a stake, and set ablaze. Flames licked up between the kindling at her feet, biting into her flesh, grabbing for her skirts, before finally catching and climbing up her form. Alessandra cried out in agony as she felt the familiar sensation of her own skin cracking and peeling away from bone, pain shooting brightly through her, blinding her to the world. But at the last moment, as her mind drifted into unconsciousness, her eyes caught on a single symbol hung in gold around the neck of the Count. Her head jolted upwards in recognition: the Aquarian Star, long forgotten symbol of her perennial foe - then at last she fell backwards, tumbling into white hot oblivion._

_She drifted there for a long while, time meaningless, dancing through a jumble of memories and visions, unable to distinguish the two. Bursts of emotion rose through her like lazy bubbles in a jar of oil - rage, grief, emptiness - before she came to, coughing, buried in refuse. Her arms flailed as she twisted and clawed her way out from under the waste of a city, with all of its varied smells and textures. She froze as her hand touched a bit of crumbling matter which, with a lurch of her stomach, she immediately recognized as charred bone. Closing her eyes and sending up a silent prayer of blessing for the departed - to whom she prayed she no longer knew; by now it was more habitual than purposeful - pushing her automatic nausea aside and pulling herself out of the putrid mass. She would rest for a moment, readjusting to the world once more, then push onward._ After all, _she thought to herself grimly,_ if I keep pushing onward I can pretend I have a choice in the matter.

_For months afterward, whenever she closed her eyes she saw dancing flames and the six-pointed star, haunting her once more._

___________________

Andi shivered, shaking off the memory as she looked out over the charred remains of a trailer, yellow paint tracing out the same star shape on the pavement in front of the jagged beams and melting siding. Dean stood next to her, running his hand over his face and through his hair.

“Local PD said they found the remains of a man inside. Just the bones, charred. She must have known we were coming and burned the house to cover her tracks.” he muttered to Andi, careful to keep his voice down so that the police milling over the scene would be unable to hear their conversation.

“Of course she did, Dean, she also has foresight.” Andi replied, distractedly. Thoughts swirled in her head, competing for prominence. She stared at the star painted so neatly on the pavement; it seemed to grow as she stared at it, filling her field of vision, taunting her. Sounds of conversation, murmuring onlookers, passing cars all faded into blood pounding through her ears. Suddenly Sam’s hand landed on her arm.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” she shook him off and started walking down the road. “I need to think.”

He followed after, asking “Don’t you want to examine the crime scene?”

“No need. There’s nothing there.”

“So what are you thinking. How do we track her down?”

She stopped abruptly. “Sam. I need to walk and think. Alone. Please. I’ll meet you at the motel.”

He halted, hand still reaching for her before he pulled back, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Ok. I’ll...interview witnesses. See if there’s anything useful.”

“There won’t be.” Andi muttered, beginning her brisk pace once more. As she walked she ran her hand over her neck, trying to steady her breathing. Conversation welled around her, building into a current of noise, pushing her further and further away from the scene. Old instincts began to rise, chanting ‘run, Run, RUN’ in the back of her mind. Breath catching, she shifted into a jog then, tripping slightly on her heels in her confusion, into a run.

Heavy footsteps pounded the pavement behind her, setting her nerves on edge. Whirling around, she grit her teeth in fury as she noted Dean jogging to keep pace with her. “I said I wanted to be alone!”

“I know.” He met her angry stare evenly, unblinking.

She stared for a moment longer in stunned silence before letting off a derisive laugh. “Just go back and interview witnesses with Sam. Do something useful.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He settled into his stance, crossing his arms.

Andi stared down at her feet, rubbing the tip of her heel on the pavement. Some distant part of her mind noticed that she was scuffing the patent leather slightly, but she ignored that voice, choosing instead to kick a nearby rock violently into a nearby bush. Dean was still standing there. He wasn’t going to budge on this. “Fine.” she spat, throwing out her arms to the sides. “But don’t talk.”

To his credit, Dean didn’t respond, waiting instead for her to resume walking towards the main road. He walked with her in silence, just out of arm’s reach.

Cars rushing by provided a thrumming soundtrack to their wandering; Andi walked quickly, though she had no end in mind. She closed her eyes, letting the noise wash over her, erasing the haze from the crowd. Her thoughts clicked back into place like cogs in a wheel, constructing the case in her mind’s eye. Suddenly she stopped, whirling on Dean.

“She knew I would be there.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out.”

“No, you’re not seeing it. Delphyne had no reason to be in that house. She feeds on flesh, not ghosts. And this is a terrible hunting ground for her: small community, lots of gossip, nowhere really to hide. She had to have had a reason to be here in Harper. I think she had a vision of me coming here and decided to follow.”

Dean shifted on his feet, thinking hard. “But she didn’t try to kill you. Or us.”

Andi nodded, following his train of thought. “So, the question is: what does she need from us?”

“Let’s get back to Sam, set up for the night and start making a plan.” Dean’s hand automatically reached for the small of her back, guiding her along the way they had come, but quickly dropped a moment later. Andi didn’t notice, mind whirling with possibilities. She was preparing for war.


	13. Close to Home

Dean had parked the car at the motel several minutes ago; the brothers had promptly jumped out and grabbed their bags from the trunk, heading into their room. Andi remained in the backseat, so lost in thought that she had missed the boys observing her worriedly through the window, before Dean had tapped on Sam's arm, leading him away. She stared down a nearby tree as if willing it to give her an answer to her unasked question, one hand curled around her jaw, finger nervously tapping her skin. Possibilities whipped through her mind, but she struggled to pin any of them down. Out of habit, she reached to her side to pull a laptop closer, but her fingertips met the door handle instead. Andi laughed quietly at herself, opening the door and scanning the wall of doors, trying to remember their room number. As it turned out, she didn’t need to; the boys had left the door wide open for her as they set up their investigation.

Sam looked up as she entered. He had already set up his laptop on the little table, his broad frame dwarfing the stiff, wooden chair paired with it; he looked her over briefly before turning back to his research, satisfied that she would be alright for now. He said nothing. Nothing needed to be said.

Dean stood over his bag, reviewing the contents yet again. Andi smiled softly, seeing the slight twitch in his neck signalling that he clocked her approach. He knew every thread in that bag, every gun that he only removed to use or clean, every knife stashed in its sheath, every change of clothes that he washed just barely often enough - there was no reason to go through it yet again.

She stood in the middle of the room, looking back and forth between the men she had begun to think of as hers, both beginning to prepare for battle in their own ways. A dull ache settled into the center of her ribcage, like the ache in her arms after the first day of harvest - long-unused muscles beginning to work once more. She took a deep breath in, feeling it stretch her from the inside, and out, releasing all distractions with the exhale.

“Sam, where are you starting?” she sat on the bed closest to him, kicking off her heels with a relieved groan.

“Just starting with Delphyne - where she came from, what her weaknesses might be...”

“You said she was a dragon, right?” Dean still dug through his bag as he spoke.

“Of a sort, but she’s older than most dragons, practically primordial.”

“I don’t know if that whole sword thing is going to work on her then, Sammy.”

Sam sighed, gesturing at his laptop. “I can’t focus on my work with the two of you talking like this.”

“Well, you know you could ask me questions, too.” Andi pointed out, leaning back on her elbows. “After all, I have lived this.”

“Fine.” Sam slapped his laptop closed and turned to face her, mouth twitching with irritation. “Tell me this: why was the Men of Letters symbol painted on the road outside of the burned trailer?”

“The Men of Letters are a relic of the original Labryaean Men. Their symbol is derived from Labryaean ritual.”

Sam’s eyebrows flew up. “And you didn't think that that was worth mentioning before now?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Of course it matters! We live in a Men of Letters bunker. Hell, we’re practically Men of Letters ourselves!”

At that Dean turned around, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Not the dick kind, Dean, obviously.” Sam countered with an eyeroll.

Andi snorted and Dean raised the other eyebrow. “Phrasing, Sammy, phrasing!”

“ANYWAY.” Sam tried to continue, closing his eyes to block out their mocking, “Have you fought Delphyne before?”

“I only met her once, when I was brought before the Sybil for initiation into the priestesshood. She spoke a word of blessing over each of us, but when she got to me I felt...have you ever been electrocuted?”

“Yeah,” both Winchesters immediately responded.

Andi blinked in surprise before continuing, “you know how it kind of grabs you, burning like a motherfucker, but you can’t let go because every muscle in your body is grabbing harder and harder for the thing that's burning you? That's what she did to my mind - what touching her does to me: psychic electrocution. During my initiation the shock of her was so severe I went unconscious. The priestesses saw me seizing on the floor of the temple and declared it a sign that I was meant to inherit the Sybil seat. I never had to fight her - not physically."

Sam sighed, opening his laptop once more. "Well, let's see if anybody else did."

"You're not planning on..." Andi trailed off, looking back and forth between the brothers.

"Planning on?" Dean prompted, flopping unceremoniously on the other bed.

"Dean, she's ancient! Probably unkillable!"

"Wouldn't be the first time we've ganked the unkillable, sweetheart." he countered with a smirk.

Andi rolled her eyes. "Still, it would probably be more productive to figure out her end goal and stop her from being able to do that - cut to the chase, so to speak."

"What do you think her end goal could be?" Sam asked without looking up.

Dean broke in before Andi could answer. "You two seem to have the research covered; I'll head back into town and dig up some leads." He jumped up and made a beeline for the door, trying to escape before Sam found an excuse for him to stay.

“De-” Sam began.

Just short of the door, Dean curled his reaching fingers back into a fist, turning to look at his brother with as innocent of a face as he could muster. “What?”

“Never mind, just go.”

Needing no further encouragement, Dean burst through the motel door, tossing his keys to himself as he went.

Andi sat up with a sigh. “What do you need me to do?”

Shooting her a sideways glance, Sam asked incredulously, “are you asking me to tell you what to do?”

“You two have a routine; for now it seems easier to just fit into that routine. There’s enough for us to fight out there without picking fights with each other.”

Sam paused, trying to read her face once more. She met his gaze evenly, blankly, leaving him clueless as to her thoughts. He sat back, tossing her his journal. “Why don’t you start writing entries on any and all relevant creatures - anything you can remember. I’ll cross-reference what I find with your notes later.”

She silently moved to sit across from him at the table, tossing his bag onto the nearest bed to make space for herself.

Sam tried not to stare at her as she gazed out the window, thinking of where to start, but soon he had his head back down, reading furiously.

The two worked quietly, forgetting time as scholars sometimes do. Outside the shadows grew longer, shifting into late afternoon, then early evening. It wasn’t until Sam’s stomach suddenly rumbled that they returned to reality.

Andi stretched, wondering aloud, “where’s Dean? It’s almost 6:30.”

“At this point he’s probably cozied up at a bar, looking for some company. I think we’re on our own for dinner.” He closed his laptop, blinking and yawning widely. “Chinese or pizza?”

“Pizza.” she said, slamming the journal closed and leaning back in her chair. “It’s only two blocks away.”

“That makes it easy. What do you want on it?”

“I don’t care. Just order what you want and I’ll eat some.”

Sam looked back at her questioningly, “What do you usually like on pizza?”

“Oh for...I’m going to take a shower.” She stalked off towards the bathroom.

“Andi, stop.”

She waggled her finger over her shoulder without bothering to turn around. “No picking fights!”

“I’m not...I didn’t…” but she had already closed the bathroom door behind her. Sam ran his fingers through his hair with one hand, making a grab for his phone with the other. In his frustration his hands moved far too fast for precision, it skittered onto the floor and under the bed. He stared at the place where it had disappeared, huffing his simmering rage. "Screw it. I'll walk there." he muttered to himself, slamming the door behind him as he went.

In the bathroom, Andi jumped a little when the door slammed. Returning to her reverie she stared at her naked body, lightly running a finger over her heart, remembering a scar that had once lay there. She shook her head at her reflection, feeling for a moment the weight of all 3000 years. Sometimes - some beautiful moments - she could forget all she had seen and done, living in the moment like the young woman she appeared to be. Today had had none of those moments. Ever since meeting Artemis in the woods the responsibility of bearing witness to this divine war had settled on her shoulders like one of her old cloaks: Apollo and Artemis - knowledge and might - order and chaos - always fighting to undo one another. She rolled her eyes and sighed, stepping into the spray of warm water and letting the steady beat of drops on her scalp lull her into some semblance of peace

By the time Sam returned with a pizza Andi had curled up on her chair in jeans and a flannel, gazing out at the trees once more. They ate quietly, not even looking at each other, until a buzz from Sam's cell broke the silence.

"Good news!" announced Sam, returning his phone to his pocket, "Dean's found himself another place to be tonight. We don't have to draw straws for who gets the couch."

"I would have taken the couch anyway. I'm the only one under 6 foot."

"Well, now you don't have to." He returned to eating his slice, staring at his nearly empty plate as if it was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day.

The silence between them grew.

___________________

"Do you mind if I watch a little TV?" Sam asked with some hesitation, looking over at her from his bed.

She shook her head at him wordlessly, pulling her rough comforter up to her chin and turning her back - shielding herself from the space between their beds, from the stark contrast between tonight and last night.

The television clicked on, switching between several stations before finally settling on what she assumed must be National Geographic - a piece on the Serengeti. Quiet music droned on underneath the narrator's mumbled descriptions; Andi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing the sound filling her lungs, her mind, her body, pushing away the fear that bounced like rabbits down every nerve ending. Sam is here - her mind whispered back - he's right behind you. He's wondering why you're avoiding him. She took another deep breath, pushing away this thought as well. Dean is trying to get away from you - the whispers persisted - you're causing trouble. How do you expect to fight Delphyne when you can't even co-operate with your team? Andi turned onto her stomach, still keeping her face away from Sam, and gripped a handful of bedsheet. She rubbed her fingers back and forth, focusing on the fabric texture. Warp and weft - you're warped enough as it is! Her breath hitched slightly, bringing with it a familiar, bitter ache in her chest.

After a while silence and darkness startled her to her surroundings once more - Sam must have turned off the television. Sounds of turning and thumping drifted over to her ears, punctuated with a deep sigh, before silence fell. _Great_ she thought to herself. Andi felt more awake than ever. She couldn't remember the last time she had shared a room but not a bed.

Sam coughed quietly.

Andi rolled over.

Sam turned onto his back, taking in a deep breath and letting it out.

Andi sat up, flipped her pillow to the cooler side, and returned to her curled position.

Sam reached out, grabbing his other pillow and bringing it to his chest.

Andi closed her eyes and shook her head. _I can't believe I'm going to do this._ "Sam?" she asked, tentatively.

His head shot upwards, looking at her. "Hmm?"

"Can...can I sleep in your bed with you?" _For crying out loud, girl! Of all the ways to phrase it..._

"I thought you said you..."

_Great._ "That's not what I meant, I just...never mind." She rolled back to her other side, reaching for her own extra pillow.

"No, it's ok." Sam scooted backwards, throwing open his blankets. "I don't really want to be alone either."

So for the second night in a row Andi found herself curled in the crook of Sam's arm, feeling him breathe in and out behind her as she faded into blessedly dreamless sleep.


	14. From the Inside Out

Ostia, Roman Empire, 69 B.C.E.

_Fire. Smoke. Steel. Blood. Screams - the high pitched screams of terrified women and children, disoriented and trapped, the lower pitched screams of men desperately trying to cling to their last breath as blades slid neatly from their soft flesh. Fire - red, raging - made flashes of horrifying brightness in the thick smoke that rolled through the streets, filling Andi's eyes. She watched, helpless, as Ostia slowly burned with hate and fear._

 

_Suddenly her vision shifted, drawn to a man making his way down the center of the street. dragging a sword behind him. His footsteps thundered in her ears and chest, growing, filling her senses. The uneven clang of steel bouncing across cobblestone grated along her nerves - Andi twisted her head to block the sound, but no relief came. Instead a booming laugh, deep and full of mirthless pleasure, added to the cacophony surrounding her. Andi raised her head to see the man grow giant in her vision, his eyes burning with the thrill of hunt and capture, mirroring the city around them. He towered over her, reaching down a meaty hand to grab for her hair. Andi screamed, overcome._

 

_"My lady?" A sailor stooped in concern, reaching hesitantly for the young woman cowering under the docks, huddled and sobbing. As he touched her shoulder she let out a primal shriek, nearly deafening him and drawing the attention of a nearby guard._

 

_"Gaius? Is that you down there? What seems to be the problem?"_

 

_"Marcius! Yes, it's me. I...I don't know what's happening. I found her..." another scream interrupted their conversation as the huddled figure slumped further into the corner, shivering. "I believe it is Mistress Pria, the silver merchant's wife. I've met her before, briefly."_

 

_"Lucius Marcellus? My gods, man, what is she doing out here alone?" The guard looked around, searching the sparse crowd for an anxious lady's maid looking for her mistress. Only curious deckhands returned his gaze, elbowing each other and pointing down at the strange scene._

 

_Lost still in her vision, Andi was oblivious to this conversation. Her mind reeled with flashes of death and chaos - friends, acquaintances, merchants, all stone-eyed and silent at her feet, pouring out an ocean of blood that roiled and rushed through the city towards Rome itself._

 

_"We have to get her out of here. This is the last thing Master Lucius needs, after..." the sailor stopped, catching himself._

 

_His friend nodded. "I already know, no fear. And I agree: we must get her out of here." He crouched, managing to throw one of the woman's arms over his shoulder. Pausing at the look on the sailor's face, he shook his head. "It can't be helped, man. We cannot leave her here for these ruffians, and she cannot walk of her own accord."_

 

_"Give me a moment." Gaius knelt in front of the woman he knew only as Pria, trying to find her eyes under the mess of hair. "My lady...Mistress Pria!"_

 

_At that, her eyes lolled open, staring at him wide-eyed and unseeing._

 

_"My lady, we...we have to get you home. Do you understand? Home." He looked up at the guard anxiously. "I'll take the other arm."_

 

_"I know a way through the back streets - we'll try to keep this quiet." he replied drawing her stola over her hair, trying to touch her as little as possible._

 

_The two men awkwardly hoisted her between them, and the odd trio made their way down the quieter roads of this busy trading center towards the Marcellus family domus. Some few passersby gaped at the sight, whispering to one another in confusion, but the sight of Marcius' uniform kept them from interfering._

 

_As they approached the front door Gaius slid out from under Andi's arm, running up and knocking loudly. He looked around in a panic, noting with some small satisfaction that they had so far managed to escape unwanted attention. After a moment the door slowly creaked open to reveal a small, brown face with impossibly large eyes. Gaius stammered out: "We...we found her by the docks..." gesturing back towards the pair behind him._

 

_As soon as she saw her mistress, the young servant girl's eyes went wide and she threw open the door, waving wildly for the men to bring her inside. She gathered the limp form with an impossible strength, bowing her head to the rescuers in silent thanks before kicking the door shut behind her._

 

_Guard and sailor stood together on the street, their work clearly over but unsure of what to do next. Finally, Marcius turned to Gaius and ordered him to alert Lucius Marcellus of the day's events before he returned to the docks. They parted ways, confused and haunted by what they had seen._

 

_Hours later, Andi awoke with a start in her bedroom. Her servant, Julia, clambered over to check on her, brow furrowed in worry. The two women stared at each other for a beat, sharing a wordless affection, before Julia lay down and nestled into Andi's arms, seeking solace and affirmation. Andi held her tight, draping an arm over her as if to protect her from the danger that drew near. They lay there for nearly an hour, comforting and reassuring one another, awaiting the return of Lucius Argentus Marcellus._

 

_________

 

Bright sunlight fell across Andi's face from the motel window. She blinked, annoyed, and growled at the intrusion.

 

Behind her, Sam's chuckle grumbled low and sweet as he wrapped an arm around her and nuzzled at her neck. "Good morning."

 

Andi rolled over to look at her bed mate. Gods, he was gorgeous - and so close - tousled hair, broad, sleepy smile. She could drown in that smile if she wasn't careful. It would be so easy to just let go...instead she closed her eyes, crushing her own answering, empty smile before it reached her lips. "Sam" - barely a whisper.

 

He sighed, flopping onto his back in defeat. "Don't say it."

 

"I can't do this."

 

"I know."

 

Both of them lay silently, not looking at each other.

 

Andi's stomach clenched in guilt. _Why am I doing this? Why can’t I just give him what he wants?_ Words tumbled through her mind: excuses, apologies, anything. She opened her mouth to speak just as Sam got up, walked into the bathroom and closed the door forcefully behind him - just short of slamming.

 

 _Damn it,_ she muttered to herself, pressing clenched fists into her eyes. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._ But it was too late. Time to move forward. She steeled herself with a deep breath, forcing herself to roll out of the bed and face the day. Sunlight jumped into her eyes once more as she turned, making her blink and curse.

 

Andi walked to the offending crack in the curtains, throwing them open so she could glare at the sun. Immediately, her eyes began to sting. "Cocky son of a bitch." she muttered, blinking to rid her throbbing eyes of sunspots. When sight returned to her she saw Dean, waving as he walked up to the motel door and threw it open.

 

"Hey, I can't help it if my night was better than yours!" he exclaimed with a grin, hands thrown out to his sides in mock defensiveness.

 

"What?"

 

"Cocky son of a bitch?"

 

"No, I was talking to...never mind." Andi shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Good night, then?"

 

"Not bad. Tammi. With an 'I'. Got her number, too!" Dean waved a crumpled napkin proudly, before tossing it in the garbage can. "A little too desperate for my taste, though. Clingy."

 

Andi snorted, rolling her eyes.

 

"How-uh...how was your night?" Dean couldn't help eyeing the beds - one still neatly made, one clearly slept-in.

 

Sam chose that moment to exit the bathroom, running his fingers through his hair in a haphazard attempt to tame the mess. He looked up, acknowledging Dean with a nod but saying nothing. Andi immediately gathered some clothes from her bag and, equally silent, took his place in the bathroom.

 

Dean stared at his brother while he silently dug through his bag. "Dude."

 

"What?"

 

"What the hell happened last night?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"C'mon, Sammy. Do I need to explain how I know you're pissed about something? You're my brother. What happened?"

 

Sam sighed, "Let it go, Dean. Please."

 

Dean looked back and forth between his brother and the closed bathroom door. Something had definitely happened, and he was hardly about to let it go. Sam liked Andi - Dean knew his brother well enough to see that, even if Sam insisted on pretending otherwise. And Andi...Andi was nearly impossible to read. Sometimes she was closed, bitter, angry, silent; but occasionally, when she forgot about the weight she seemed to carry with her every day, she became a completely different person: free, open, laughing, bright, happy - someone Dean could...no. Sam had so few chances to be happy, and Dean was determined to do whatever he could to bring his brother more happiness, whatever the cost.

 

Andi chose that moment to re-emerge from the bathroom, flipping her hair over the collar of her plaid shirt. God, she looked good in red. She kept her head down, not looking at either brother as she moved to begin packing up her bag.

 

Dean broke the silence, clapping his hands together loudly. "So. What have you got?"

 

Sam looked up, perfectly professional. "We started building a database of creatures associated with Delphyne, cross-referenced by their attack patterns, habits, etc. It's not much to go on, but it's a start. I also put out some feelers with other hunters: Mack, Tom, Jed. They'll give us a call if they hear anything."

 

"I filled in the gaps as best as I could," Andi added, straightening, "but honestly I still think tracking her down is the wrong approach. She has foresight - she's going to see us coming a mile away."

 

"What do suggest we do instead?" Dean asked, crossing his arms.

 

"Like I said yesterday, we need to cut her out of the equation entirely. She's not the problem - Apollo is. He's using me as an excuse to pick a fight with other gods, sending Delphyne to cause chaos and draw me out." Andi paused. "We need to find him, stop this before it starts."

 

"Stop what?" Sam still couldn't look at her, Dean noted.

 

"Cataclysmic divine battle for supremacy using the earth as a battlefield?"

 

Silence fell for a moment. Running his fingers through his hair, Dean muttered with a wry grin, "There was a time when I would have thought you were overreacting; but this seems pretty normal nowadays." Sam grunted in agreement, brow furrowed in thought. "Right, so, how do we find this dick?"

 

"He's a god - he'll be at a temple." Andi plopped down onto the still unmade bed. "Lucky for us, Apollo is an easy one; he always needs an audience. Know any place where a god of light, music, and culture might find an audience?"

 

"Carnegie Hall?" Dean offered with a laugh.

 

Andi nodded sagely. "That's what I was thinking too."

 

"Really? I was kidding."

 

Sam finally looked up. "No, it makes sense. Probably the best place to find him here in the United States."

 

"Given the situation, I think he'll want to talk to me, but we need to find an invocation just in case." Andi added, crooking an eyebrow towards the closed laptop.

 

"So, what, we're just going to waltz in there and try to reason with a sun god?" Dean leaned back against the dresser, scoffing. "We'll be toast. Probably literally."

 

"You and Sam hang back." Sam opened his mouth to protest, concern pouring out of his eyes, but Andi silenced him with a stern look. "I'm immortal, remember?" She turned back to Dean. "Silver lime."

 

"Bless you."

 

She rolled her eyes at Dean. "The tree, dumbass. Silver lime. Linden? Tilia tomentosa? It has strong anti-magical properties, and I have a theory that it would not mix well with Apollo's particular brand of divine magic. Silver, trees, anti-magic - all promising attributes. If you two hang back with a sharpened branch of silver lime, you'll be able to act if the conversation goes poorly."

 

Sam sat up, furrowing his eyebrows thoughtfully. "That's good. That's really good. Let me do some reading, see if I can find something else to throw into the mix and make it stronger."

 

"Well, sounds like the beginnings of a back-up plan at least. We have a two day car ride to fill in the gaps." Dean straightened, rubbing his hands together in an effort to wake up his brain for the journey ahead.

 

"Agreed." Andi jumped off the bed, grabbing her bag. "So: who's following me to New York City?"

 

"Uhuh." Grabbing the keys to Baby, Dean moved between her and the door. "I'll be driving all three of us. I'm not letting you out of our sight until this asshole is out of the picture."

 

"Control freak." she muttered at him, but a slight smile on her lips assured him that she was teasing.

 

"Drama queen." he countered, turning and opening the door for her with an exaggerated bow.

 

"Oh, have I ascended to the throne now?" Grinning widely, she threw her bag over her shoulder and marched out to the Impala. "About damn time."

 

The answering grin on Dean's face faded slightly as he looked back at Sam, gathering up his bags with a heaviness in his shoulders. "Worried about the plan?"

 

"I won't be as worried once we have a finished one." But the bitterness in Sam's eyes did not match his brisk tone.

 

"Hey." Dean grabbed his brother by the shoulder, keeping him from following Andi out to the parking lot. "You okay?"

 

Shifting his bags awkwardly, Sam didn't meet his brother's eyes when he answered. "Like you said, it's a two day trip to Manhattan from here. Try not to do quite so much of...this, if you could."

 

"So much of what?"

 

Sam kept walking.

 

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

 

Hearing Dean's raised voice, the gentle giant angrily wheeled back around towards the motel room. "This, Dean! The laughing, and the teasing, and the...it's fine. It's all fine, I just don't want to see it."

 

"See what, Sammy? There's nothing to see!" Dean could feel the anger rising in his chest, matching Sam's. If he had had hackles, they would be rising.

 

Rather than continue to fight, Sam made his way across the parking lot, scanning it out of habit for anything out of place.

 

Dean grabbed his own bags and slammed the motel door closed behind him. Well, shit. This would be a long car ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT. I REWROTE IT AND IT'S BETTER, BECAUSE THAT'S HOW EDITING WORKS. God, that was a disheartening slug...
> 
> It may be a while before the next one.


	15. Labyrinth

The first leg of the trip passed in excruciating silence, punctuated by a single argument between Dean and Andi about whether or not she would be allowed to drive Baby. They would probably have come to blows, had Sam not silently grabbed the keys and folded himself into the driver's seat. Andi wasn't quite sure what had brought the sour note on the trio. In most any other circumstance she would have been tempted to intervene between the brothers, but being around two men constantly was beginning to wear on her, especially given the events of the past week or two. She found herself grateful for the silence, uncomfortable though it was. Now that the block in her mind allowed her to suppress her visions, these sorts of conflicts no longer tortured her. For the first time in her life, Andi felt herself offering up a silent prayer of gratitude to an angel. If Cas hadn't put up the block she was certain she would currently be a huddled pile of snot and tears, mind emptied by pain. After a moment, she felt a warm silence press unexpectedly against her consciousness - one mind smiling to another. Andi pulled away in shock. This quiet intimacy with an angel raised bile in the back of her throat, but she pushed it down. Castiel was a friend of Sam and Dean. She did not trust him - could not trust him - but she could respect his gift.

 

As the long day on the road drew to a close, Dean and Sam began to discuss arrangements for the evening. Thankfully, the three were all in agreement that it would be better to drive through the night. Sam dutifully moved to the backseat so that he could sleep and prepare to take the following shift. Andi briefly thought about pressing Dean once more for permission to drive, but thought better of it as she watched him slide into the front seat and run his hands over the steering wheel, greeting his girl with a silent smile. The image sent a shiver down her spine, and she remained silent.

 

She must have drifted off because she woke with a start, the absence of Baby's humming engine as good as any alarm clock.

 

"Shhh, don't wake Sam. I've just gotta stretch my legs." Dean whispered, opening his door.

 

Andi stretched and peered out into the heavy dark surrounding them. As her eyes adjusted to the night she saw forests of tall trees breaking off at right angles into open fields, the straight lines jarring next to curving branches and leaves. She sighed, opening her door and stepping into the chilly air.

 

"Um."

 

She turned to see Dean looking worriedly at her over his shoulder, 'stretching his legs' onto the roots of a tree. With a laugh she turned her back, leaning against Baby's warm hood to stave off the bite of approaching winter and gazing out over the empty fields. After a moment, Dean came and joined her.

 

"We're almost to Ohio. About halfway there."

 

Andi smiled. "I remember this region. Johnny and I lived somewhere around here. 'Good dirt' he always said. Good for farming."

 

"Did he know who you were?"

 

"He knew I was strange, but he didn't ask questions. Our world was dangerous enough, and we wanted a quiet life."

 

"Was he a hunter?"

 

She shook her head, smiling and toeing at the dirt. "Only of animals."

 

"And you never told him about any of this?" he gestured vaguely down the road.

 

"I told him that there were some very powerful men out East who wouldn't mind seeing me dead, and I asked him to not ask questions about it. He never did."

 

They stood for a moment more, breathing the night air and listening to the last of the crickets chirping out their songs.

 

Abruptly, Dean stood and moved towards the trunk. "Beer?"

 

"Aren't you driving?"

 

"I'll wake Sam in a minute to take over. He's been out for a solid few hours and I'm getting a little tired anyway."

 

"Yeah, I'll take one."

 

"Flannel? It's getting colder."

 

"Sure. Thanks."

 

He closed the trunk, handing her his warmest flannel and a beer as he took his place once more. They cracked open their drinks in unison, clinking the bottles together before taking a swig.

 

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

 

"Sure."

 

"You said Apollo cursed you to never be believed 'until you knew in your bones to never cross the gods.' When did that happen?"

 

Andi set her beer down and pulled on the flannel, wrapping it tightly around herself. Memories began flashing and whirling in front of her eyes; she squeezed them tightly shut and shook her head to clear them. Instead, the acrid smell of smoke, flickering flames, a warm, sticky pool on the floor flooded her senses - she looked to the side and saw a small body slumped on the floor, familiar eyes once so bright and jovial now empty and staring - before sharp pain burst through her skull and she felt herself being dragged away. "The night Troy fell...it took a while for the soldiers to find me." she began hesitantly. "I saw my baby brother's throat cut right in front of me. There was nothing I could do. They killed him and just left him laying there. A beam came down, almost hit his body. His tunic caught fire. I sat there, waiting to die." For a moment the memory overwhelmed her senses, and she forgot where she was. Her breath caught. "Dean, his blood literally started to boil. I could smell it. It smelled like roast beef." Her voice trailed off, unable to finish.

 

The two sat in silence. After a pause, Dean began quietly, "the first time Sam died...he just disappeared. Weeks, I didn't know where he was and when I found him he was scared and lost. He was a grown man: big, bigger than me, strong, smart. But I saw him standing in the middle of this street with this...this look on his face, and he was just my kid brother. Scared, looking for me to help. I couldn't help it - I felt so relieved to see him again, but...I was glad, you know? I was glad I was there, and could help. Then suddenly there was this guy behind him, and Sam just...went down. He...I caught him, but he was already gone. His blood was all over my hands, and he was just gone. My baby brother. I...I couldn't do anything. I..." He stopped himself, clearing his throat and taking another swig of beer.

 

Andi reached for her own, breathing deeply and letting her mind clear.

 

Finally, Dean held up his bottle, saying: "To heartbreak. If it still hurts, you still have one."

 

"I'll drink to that." They clinked bottles once more, letting the sour, heavy taste of cheap beer wash away the memories.

 

"Come on." Dean rapped his fist on the rear window, rousing Sam from his slumber. "Hey! Get your lazy ass up; it's your turn."

 

Sam groaned, rubbing his eyes and shaking himself awake. "Jerk."

 

"Bitch!" Dean announced cheerily, opening the door and kicking at his brother's legs. "Come on. Move!"

 

"I'm goin', I'm goin'!!"

 

"You're not going fast enough. I'm tired."

 

"Yeah, that's why you stopped to drink." Sam nodded at the beer.

 

"Sleep aid. Come on, get up."

 

"Dean, shut the fuck up!!" Sam rolled out of the backseat, stumbling slightly as he moved to the driver's seat. Dean took his place in the backseat, nestling into the cushions as if he were a child safe in mother's arms.

 

Andi couldn't help laugh at their antics as she slid into her own seat. But even as she let herself giggle, bitterness twisted in her gut. Whole centuries had passed since she had laughed with her own brothers; a unit of time previously unimaginable to her child-mind now just another way to mark her age.

______________

 

As they stepped out of the subway station, Andi couldn't help breathing out a silent _wow._ She was a country girl by far, old fashioned - or perhaps just old. She mostly stayed away from cities, if she could avoid them. New York City was the opposite of everything she understood: crowds, traffic, tall buildings. Everything was grey, dirty, angry: smelling of piss and hopelessness. If she craned her neck all the way up she could see the sky, but after doing so several times her neck hurt and her breathing was getting heavy. She felt trapped, crushed, borne down with the weight of the grief surrounding her. It no longer overwhelmed her senses, but she could feel it pressing against the boundaries of her mind, screaming, demanding...

A hand gripped her arm, and she clawed at air, instinct guiding her. Sam grabbed her wrist as she attacked, worry in his eyes. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." She shook off his concern, looking back at where the had emerged. She had almost made it one, single block. _Damn it._ And she had thought the subway was bad.

 

"It's only a few blocks away. We won't have to be out here for long." he let go of her wrist, his gentle smile a peace offering.

 

Andi held her breath as they walked down 7th Avenue, trying to block out all the scents and sounds. Mostly she tried to keep her head down, avoiding eye contact. She didn't even notice when the boys stopped walking; Dean had to reach out, silently snagging her elbow to turn her around. Carnegie Hall had appeared out of nowhere, nestled into the taller buildings like a golden flower sprouting from a rock face.

 

"Kind of small for a temple." Dean commented.

 

"Be sure to mention it. Probably drive him nuts." Andi grinned over her shoulder as she strode towards the building. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

 

The three slipped in through the front door, easily jumping into a group of tourists as they began their tour. The tour was long, but Andi found it surprisingly interesting. She listened to the stories of the architect, of Carnegie himself, and the sacrifices necessary to build such a haven for the arts. Sam also seemed to find it interesting, even daring to ask the guide a question. Her face lit up as she described the intricate processes for perfecting acoustics with the architecture.

 

Andi snuck a glance back at Dean and grinned to see the look of devastating boredom plastered on his face. Quickly she stifled it, reaching back and giving his hand a smack. He stared at her, silently mouthing _what!?_ Andi merely jerked her head back towards the docent with a meaningful look, turning back around to continue listening.

 

They walked through several of the practice halls and auditoriums but as they left Stern Auditorium, the main performance venue, Sam bent his head to whisper in Dean's ear: "I'm going to hang back and look over this one. I have this feeling."

 

"Ok, we'll help."

 

"No, you two go on. I want Andi to give the whole place a once over, see if she spots anything. Just meet me back here when you finish the tour."

 

Dean nodded, gesturing to Andi to follow with the rest of the group.

 

After nearly an hour, the tour ended in a small museum on the second floor. The walls were papered with pictures and stories - everyone wandered around, pointing things out to their friends, ooh'ing and ahh'ing. The docent stood in the far corner, smiling cheerfully as she watched them wander. Eventually - finally, according to Dean - she gathered the tour and announced their final stop: "the Gift Shop!"

 

As the docent led the rest of the group out of the museum, Dean grabbed Andi's elbow, holding her back. He waited until the room was clear before cocking an eyebrow and gesturing at the door. "So, ignoring 'The Gift Shop!!' what do we think?"

 

Andi smirked. "Honestly, I think Sam had a good hunch. I think the auditorium is the way to go. He wants sacrifice, devotion, spectacle. He wants a performance."

 

"Yeah, I think you're right. Let's find Sam, and find a place to hide until we can do the ritual." Dean muttered quietly, turning and walking back the way they came. He opened the door and strode through.

 

Andi held back, looking back over her shoulder to make sure that nobody was following them. As she too passed through the doorway, she found herself walking directly into Dean's back as he stood in the hallway, frozen.

 

"Dean, what..." the words fell from her mouth as she looked around. The two stood in a hallway alright, entirely devoid of windows. Instead of the crisp, clean interior of Carnegie Hall, tight, cold concrete walls lit sporadically with flickering lightbulbs stretched down the long tunnel - clearly some sort of basement or service tunnel. Andi looked around, immediately on the alert. "Shit."

 

Wordlessly, Dean turned, pushing her back through the door that had previously led to the museum. Instead, they found themselves stumbling into a small conference room, one wall entirely floor-to-ceiling windows. Dean stood in the middle of the room, looking around in confusion. "What the hell is this?"

 

Andi immediately ran over to the giant windows, taking stock of the landscape. "The good news is we're still in New York City. I think we're even still in the same building."

 

"And the bad news?"

 

Andi couldn't repress a snort. "Well for starters, we're still in New York City."

 

"Hey!"

 

His sharp tone caught her off guard, and she turned to face him. She could immediately tell he was in no joking mood.

 

"Do you know what this is?" He spoke quietly, evenly.

 

"I have a couple theories," she began, but a deep cry from behind the door interrupted their conversation.

 

"Dean!"

 

"Sammy!" he called, barrelling through the door, preparing for battle.

 

"Damn it, Dean, wait!" Andi cried out, but she was a step too slow. The door swung shut behind Dean even as she lunged for the handle. "It's not him!" Yanking it open, she was met with a thick, deep darkness and the unmistakable and overwhelming scent of rotting flesh. She couldn't help the cry of revulsion that rose in the back of her throat, bringing with it the sting of bile.

 

In response, a low rumble echoed in the depth of the long, winding tunnel of dirt and stone that stretched beyond. Andi froze, her heart nearly stopping as she took in her surroundings. This place seemed familiar... _no. No._ Andi turned to slam the door on this foul pit, but the door had vanished. Behind her stretched only more tunnel, fading into an impenetrable darkness. The air was damp, thick with earth and death. She shrank back, pressing herself low on the wall, following her instincts - her feet sank slightly down into the soft cavern floor with a soft squelch. Biting back another retch, she forced herself to focus instead on the shuffling noises, growing louder, nearer. Her mind raced, calculating hiding spots she didn't have time to seek, trajectories for weapons she didn't have. She blinked her eyes rapidly, silently begging them to adjust to the sudden darkness more quickly. They seemed to obey, searching out whatever little information they could gather.

 

Unfortunately, that meant she could now see the snout emerging from the shroud of blackness engulfing her - a long, hairy nose with wide-set nostrils and a leathery upper lip with two cracked teeth. It tilted into the air as it inhaled deeply, the intake vibrating a thick, metal ring threaded through its gargantuan septum. Catching wind of it's prey, the monstrous creature let out a deafening roar that reverberated in the very walls against which she crouched, carrying with it the foul stench of decay.

 

 _Dean, I'm going to fucking kill you,_ she thought, trying to remain as still and silent as possible.

______________

 

Sam lingered at the back of the tour group, pretending to be looking around the wide auditorium - not at all a difficult deception. Truly the place was breathtaking: white and gold columns stretching several stories tall, covered in intricate carvings of leaves and vines. Now this could definitely be a temple. He surreptitiously stepped behind a pillar, letting it block his tall frame as the group slowly trickled out after the overly-eager docent. He waited until the door swung closed behind the last of the group before making his way towards the stage.

 

It was strange to walk here. As a hunter Sam relied on his senses, his hearing to keep him alive. But this room with its vastness and upholstery, the whole design calculated to draw sound outward, twisted and magnified every tiny sound. He felt naked - clearly visible between the low rows of chairs, easily filling the room with the gentle shuffle of his steps. He coughed and shrugged, trying to shake off the feeling.

 

As he reached the stage, Sam had to hoist himself up onto the ledge, rolling unceremoniously onto his stomach before straightening up. _Thank God Dean didn't see that._ He stood for a moment looking out at the curving rows of seats, all hushed and waiting. This was the place; he could feel it in the back of his neck. This was where they could find Apollo.

 

Before he could react, one of the side doors flew open as an angry looking woman stepped through. "Excuse me, you can't be in here."

 

"I...I, uh..."

 

"This is a restricted area. Tourists are not allowed to be on stage." She stood below with her arms folded. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me."

 

"That won't be necessary, Sarah, thank you." a voice rang out from behind Sam, a rich, jovial tenor. Sam whirled around to see a gorgeous man dressed in the same docent uniform, thick, curly blonde hair radiating out in almost a halo. "He's with me. I'm giving him a...special tour." The new arrival flashed a brilliant smile, two rows of perfect, sparkling white teeth glinting gently at her.

 

Sarah relented with a huff. "Fine. But I better not catch you on any of the cameras."

 

"Of course not!" The man laughed, clapping Sam on the shoulder and pulling him into an awkward side-hug. "We all know better."

 

Sam's jaw worked, but eventually he managed a stiff smile and a pat on his rescuer's other shoulder.

 

Sarah rolled her eyes, leaving the two men alone in the vast auditorium.

 

Sam immediately dropped his arm, backing away and looking suspiciously at the recent arrival. "Thanks for the help, Mr...?"

 

The man's dazzling smile dropped instantly, and his bright blue eyes flashed with a golden light. "I know you recognize me, my son, so let's skip the games. I need your help. Andi is in trouble."

 

"And why should I believe you," Sam scoffed, "Apollo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note, Kaiser Johnson and I have a passing social media acquaintanceship, and he IS Apollo to me. if I actually had any casting power, or opportunity to cast him in anything, it would be as Apollo. it's just perfect. unfortunately, there's not any easily embed-able pics of him, so here's a link to the best and most Apollo-like, so you can have a visual:  
>  https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMTYwNjUzMjU3NV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMzAxNDY5OTE@._V1_UY1200_CR482,0,630,1200_AL_.jpg


	16. Divide and Conquer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP (italicized section) AND VIOLENCE (3rd section)

Dean burst through the door, nearly tripping in his haste. "Sam! Sammy!" Looking around, he saw yet another carpeted hallway with doors along either side, brightly lit.

 

"Dean? Where are you?" Sam's voice echoed to his left, muffled through one of the doors.

 

"Right here, Sammy!" He tried the doorknob, rattling the whole door in its hinges. Locked. With a grunt of frustration Dean threw himself at the door, wood cracking and splintering. Again - he could feel the hinges giving. "I'm coming!"

 

"Dean!" There was no fear in the voice, only urgency.

 

I don't have time for this, he muttered to himself, turning and kicking the door down with a loud crunch. "Sam!" He paused in surprise, staring down another, nearly identical hallway which stretched before him. "Sam?"

 

"Dean! Down here, I need your help." the voice sounded close, but something felt off. He knew his brother. This was not Sam.

 

The hair on the back of Dean's neck rose as he tentatively stepped into the hallway. "Sam? Thought you were supposed to be downstairs?"

 

No response. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see what Andi thought, and only then realized that she was no longer following. "Andi?" His voice sounded strangely muffled.

 

"Dean! Help me!" came a feminine shriek from further down the hallway which now stretched behind him as well. That was not Andi's voice. Moreover, there was no sign of the ruined doorframe through which he had just come.

 

"Damn it!" Dean set his back to the wall, looking back and forth. He reached behind his flannel, drawing the Glock and flicking its safety. "What the hell is this place?"

 

Laughter bounced down the hallway, starting as one light, feminine warble but rippling, echoing, swelling, growing into a chorus of derisive laughter that stung his ears.

 

"He cries out, my sisters!" A voice emerged from the cacophony, screeching a light, soprano note.

 

"This lover of wine, lover of women!" cried another. "Could even he be undone?"

 

"Who does he cry for, my pet, my love? For whom does the little boy reach?"

 

The crowd of voices took up once more, screeching, "Who? Who? Whooooo? WHOOOOOOOO!" their cry swelling once more into a wild refrain.

 

Dean felt himself going pale. _This is a fight; I have to fight now._ He took aim down the empty hallway, alert and watching for any sign of movement. "Who are you?" he bellowed.

 

One of the voices gave a high pitched gasp, before dissolving away into giggles again.

 

Another chimed in, "Oh no! A gun! Whatever shall we do?"

 

"Just like a man - reaching for himself and leaving us all alone." the sultry alto of this voice ended in a pout, but her words were taken up by the rest of the faceless myriad, chanting "all alone, all alone, all alone, he's all alone."

 

 _Fuck._ Dean began backing down the hallway, occasionally glancing over his shoulder but keeping his eyes trained in the direction of these invisible cries. 

 

The first of the voices broke in, calling out in a commanding tone: "What do you say girls? Should we show him a good time?"

 

The other voices took up a howl in some sort of feral affirmative, their battle cry echoing and petering out into an eerie silence. The hallway remained empty.

 

Now Dean could only hear the ragged echo of his own breathing, his heart beating so heavily he thought it might snap his ribs in a moment. He stepped forward, listening to the muffled creak of his feet against the carpet-covered boards. Nothing - no monsters, no horde of crazy women, no Sam. He took another step forward.

 

"Boo." The whisper came right in his ear, behind him.

 

Dean spun around, battle hardened and ready. He had pulled the trigger before he even saw his prey, a shimmering woman with loose, dark hair spilling down over her shoulders. The bullet went straight through her ribs, leaving a ragged hole ringed with a deep purple stain in her haggard tunic. Through the tear the two watched as the flesh knit itself back together. She stared at it in amusement before raising her eyes to meet his, sparking with mischief.

 

"Shit." Dean took off running down the hallway.

 

"Ladies..." The woman's voice rang out, musical and haunting, before going cold and cruel, lips curling in a sneer: "time to hunt."

 

_____________

_Ostia_

 

_Echoing down the hall of the domus, Andi heard the clatter and crash of shattering pottery._

 

_"You stupid bitch! Can't even pour wine." Her shoulders hunched at her husband's angry bellow even before she heard the smack of his hand and Julia's muffled cry of pain. Taking a deep breath, she drew her stola demurely over her head and went to face Lucius. She would not let Julia bear his rage alone._

 

_As she stepped into the room where her husband lay sprawled, not reclined, on his kline Andi drew herself up to her full height and looked down at her friend. "Julia, it is my honor to serve my lord when he is returned from the city. Do remember your place." Looking the girl over, Andi immediately noticed the new bruise growing under her right eye. "Go check on the kitchen; I'm sure my lord is anxious for his supper."_

 

_Julia gave a small bow in acknowledgement, but it was clear that she was grateful for the excuse to leave._

 

_"You." He spat out the single word like an accusation as he rose, shaking a little. He had probably already been drinking. "You devilish whore! I've heard about your...activities. Down by the docks!"_

 

_Andi lowered her eyes, trying to look as penitent as she could while her mind raced. She knew better than to contradict or attempt to explain. There had to be a way to quiet him before this got out of control. His feet - he was still wearing his sandals. Slowly, trying not to make sudden movements, she knelt in front of him and gently touched his foot. "May I take your sandals, my lord? Wash your feet for dinner?"_

 

_His kick was sloppy, weak, but Andi knew it was better to let him think that he had hurt her than to fight back. She fell onto her back, rolling slightly to stay out of his reach._

 

_Lucius fell back onto the kline, thrown off balance. He caught himself before tumbling over the back of the couch, groaning and clutching his head. "My wife! My wife! You're my wife!"_

 

_"Yes my lord, I'm your wife and I love you." Andi sat up, trying her best to sound loving and submissive._

 

_He stared at her, bleary-eyed. "I have given you everything I have. Why do you shame me?"_

 

_She lowered her eyes; she already knew he didn't want an answer. Her fingers twisted nervously in the hem of her stola._

 

_"I found you on the streets of Rome: cold, hungry, and alone..."_

 

_"Thank you, sir." Andi mumbled automatically, trailing off when she realized he wasn't done._

 

_"Don't interrupt me!" He glared at her angrily. "I gave you a home, a name, servants. Yet you insist on running around the city, half naked and screaming!" He paused, breathing heavily and shaking his head. "Why do you do this to me? What are you doing to me?"_

 

_Tears began to well in her eyes, mostly spilling-over relief that the conversation seemed to be almost over. "I'm sorry, my lord, I'm so sorry!"_

 

_He sighed deeply, patting a spot next to him. "Don't cry, my love." He spoke softly, lovingly._

 

_Andi obediently climbed up next to him, keeping her head down._

 

_"Don't hide that pretty face." He reached out, crooking a finger under her chin and tilting her head towards him. "I'm glad that you're sorry. I forgive you. But if I hear of you doing anything like this again you'll be out on the street. Do you hear me?"_

 

_Andi nodded._

 

_"Good." He grinned broadly, pulling her in and kissing the top of her head. "Now, what's for dinner?"_

 

_____________

 

 _Shit. Shit. Fuck._ Andi huddled against the tunnel wall, hoping against hope that she could avoid detection. She dug into her pockets, hoping to find something she could use as a distraction. No keys, no cellphone, no pencils. _Damn it._

 

Stomping its way into the corridor, the creature swung its head back and forth to gather any available scents and sounds.

 

Andi held her breath, digging her fingers into the wall behind her. Dirt crumbled around her, pushing up under her fingernails, but shortly she discovered a small stone. In one smooth motion she yanked it from the wall and flung it further down the corridor, beyond her.

 

The brute roared, thudding past her in a horrifying wall of flesh and fur. Andi had to struggle not to choke on its stench as she quickly slipped down the corridor in the opposite direction. Before long the corridor widened into a sort of cavern; in her haste Andi missed the lip of the tunnel, stumbling into the dome-shaped room. _Thank the gods Dean didn't see that._ The cavern was dark, but she could still make out the entrances to several tunnels leading outward in spokes. From the one directly behind her Andi could hear the creature huffing and snarling in frustration. _He's coming back._ Familiar panic began to swell in her chest and she took off running down one of the side tunnels.

 

The thick, earthy walls enveloped her once more, muffling all sound but the gentle thud of her feet against the floor and the panicked huff of her breath. Her lungs stung and burned, reminding her how long it had been since she ran like this.

 

 _Running again - no._ Andi suddenly stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling a righteous wrath building in her gut, pushing away her terror, her exhaustion, her attempts at strategy. She was tired of running, tired of being hunted, pushed around, twisted, used. Her fists clenched involuntarily as she turned, facing the beast stumbling down the tunnel after her. Not anymore. It was long past time to fight once more.

 

The monstrosity was almost on her; Andi spent that half of a second regretting every decision she had made to lead her to this moment. _Shitshitshitshitshit._ But just in time she felt that surge of adrenaline peak, felt her battle instincts kicking in. She reached up and out, lightning quick, grasping the broad ring in its nose and pulling down sharply. The beast let out a cry more like a yelp than a roar, its eyes widening in pain. "NO. BAD." Andi shouted directly into its ear as loudly as she could manage, pitching her voice low and dominating. It was a risky gamble.

 

Curved horns scraped along the ground as soft bovine eyes studied Andi's stance. The creature moaned pathetically, but Andi fought against the sudden prodding of compassion. She knew this creature from the stories; most importantly she knew that it was not yet done fighting.

 

Just as she suspected, the minotaur's eyes hardened and it gored upwards sharply, its bellow blowing hot against her thighs. Andi tried to leap out of the way but the tip of one of the horns caught her ankle, twisting her body as she fell. She landed on its snout, quickly using her undamaged foot to launch herself over onto the back of its neck. "I said, NO." She shouted, twisting around so that she straddled it.

 

The creature clambered to its feet, constantly fighting and writhing in an attempt to shake off the unwanted rider. Andi clung on desperately, trying to keep her head low to avoid whiplash. _Shit, now what?_

 

From behind the grappled pair came a strange, light voice exclaiming "Andi, catch!" She turned just in time to glimpse a whirling shape, throwing up her hand to protect her head and instinctually closing her fingers around the smooth metal. Although the razor sharp blade bit into her skin she couldn't help a small grin as her practised hand felt again the familiar weight of a dagger. She tossed the blade deftly, catching it in a much more strategic grip, then immediately plunged the blade just below the monster's chin pulling backwards towards herself.

 

The minotaur roared out once more in pain, stumbling backwards and smashing its back against the earthen tunnel.

 

The sudden impact knocked the wind out of her and Andi found herself tumbling to the ground gasping for air. Above her she could barely make out the creature blindly feeling for the source of this new stinging pain. Her lungs stinging, back aching, Andi fought to regain control of her limbs. _Come on, come on!_ She managed to shift her legs out of the way just before a massive hoof slammed down next to her, shaking the cavern. Bits of dirt and gravel rained down, coating her eyes and mouth; Andi spluttered, scrambling to her feet and wiping her vision clear.

 

The beast roared, swinging its burly arms around searching for its prey. Andi ducked out of his reach, her foot sending the knife scuttling behind her. She dove for the sound, fingers searching out the only weapon she had. She gripped it desperately, trying to keep a firm hold on it though it was coated in hot, slick blood. Her eyes darted, searching out the motion of the beast through the impenetrable darkness surrounding all of them.

 

Finally she saw an opening; the minotaur stumbled, weakening as its life blood poured from its wound. Andi lunged forward, staying low and drawing her blade neatly across the back of its hocks. There was a low popping sound, then blood began to gush onto the ground, soaking the earth and the leg of her jeans. The minotaur fell forward, mouth gaping open in unspeakable pain, before letting out one final, anguished bellow. It twitched, writing in pure agony as its life slowly ebbed away.

 

Andi stood, hands shaking with adrenaline. Slowly she approached the head of the beast, at first keeping well away from the reach of its arms. At last, satisfied that she would be in no danger, she stepped over to the shivering form, straddling its neck. She gently scraped her blade down the back of its neck, finding that tiny divot between two vertebrae. She took a deep breath, braced herself for leverage, and threw her weight behind the stroke. Bones and sinew popped apart under the force of her knife, and the minotaur huffed out its last breath, stilling.

 

From the open mouth of the cavern came a slow, even clap. A greenish glow began to form illuminating the slim form of a young man, no more than seventeen, jauntily striding towards her as he applauded.

 

"Who are you?" Andi gasped between breaths, hands on her knees.

 

"For now just think of me as a fan." he said, grinning. "I got a tip that you were here - decided to come get you." He toed at one of the minotaur's horns, knocking the head onto its side. The low green light reflected off of the growing pool of blood at the creatures throat, dark like molasses.

 

She stood, wiping her hands on her flannel. "A tip? From who?"

 

"An ally."

 

Immediately Andi threw out her arm, pinning the young stranger to the earthy tunnel wall and bringing the dagger up under his throat. "Thanks for the knife," she said calmly, staring him straight in the eye. "but I'm going to need some better answers."

 

The young man smiled apologetically as the knife dissolved away into nothingness. "It wasn't really ever there."

 

Andi blinked at her empty hand. "Ok. But I bet I can still kick your ass." She grabbed his shoulder, flinging him to the ground.

 

He landed with an _oof,_ wincing in pain at first, but unexpectedly bursting into laughter. "You could certainly try! By the gods, after a show like that I might even let you! Could be fun." He flashed a crooked smile and an exaggerated wink.

 

"Who. Are. You." Andi crossed her arms, staring him down.

 

The youth arched his back, flipping up onto his feet in a single fluid motion. "Oh, you'll figure it out, I'm sure." He dusted off his hands and shook his head of thick curly hair, looking around the cave in disgust. "Vile place. Shall we be on our way?"

 

"Absolutely not! I'm not going anywhere with you until..."

 

The strange boy sighed, rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers. The light hovering around him flashed suddenly, coalescing into a marbled oval of dim light hovering in the air. Before Andi had a chance to react he grabbed her hand and jumped, pulling both of them into the swirling mix of green and silver.

 

As the two disappeared the light faded, leaving behind the dark and silent cavern, blood running in rivulets from one of the tunnels.

 

_____________

 

Dean came back to consciousness abruptly, shooting straight upright. Immediately he groaned, grabbing his forehead and blocking the sharp morning light which burned through the Impala windows. _God, he hadn't had a hangover like this in a while. How much did he drink? Wait, he hadn't been drinking. SAM._ He looked around frantically, but the sudden movement was too much. Scrambling for the door handle, he barely got it open before emptying his stomach out onto the grass below.

 

"Sam!" he managed to groan out, but there was no response. Panting and heaving, he tried to take inventory of the situation. He was in the backseat of the Impala, completely naked. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Andi too. Dean winced, running his fingers through his hair and trying to remember. _We were in New York City. We got separated, and everything went all...Inception-y._ "Sam..." he sputtered out one last time, knowing there would be no response. "Damn it."

 

Stepping carefully to avoid the wet mess now under his feet, Dean cautiously left the back of the Impala, shielding his nether regions as best he could. The cold air stung at his skin and he hurried to work the trunk open with numb fingers, still squinting from the bright light reflecting off her crisp paint. Finally the trunk popped open. To Dean's immeasurable relief all their bags were still there. He tore into his own, desperately pulling out layers of flannel and a pair of jeans when the voice came suddenly from behind him, just as soft and cold as the first time he had heard it.

 

"Hello there, hunter."


	17. Shifting Tides

"Whoa, whoa, shit. Stay back!" Dean barked, hurriedly stumbling back behind the Impala's out flung door. He began jumping into his jeans one leg at a time.

 

An amused smile stretched over Artemis' face; she tucked her hands into her leather jacket and looked away, shuffling her feet. "Oh, by all means take your time."

 

"Hey." Dean pushed the car door closed, storming over to dark-haired goddess. "You listen, and you listen right now. I'm not playing any of your games; I'm not taking any of your shit; I'm not jumping into your little family squabble. I'm getting my brother, and I'm getting out. Got that?"

 

She stared evenly at him, unfazed, letting the silence hang just long enough before asking "You done?"

 

"Like hell I am!" he nearly spat back, standing nose to nose with her now, still barefoot in the snow-patched grass.

 

"How original." she threw back in a mockingly saccharine tone. "Let's make one thing perfectly clear - I don't give a fuck about you or your brother. I want the girl, and the girl thinks you're useful. She won't move forward until she knows you're safe. You're going to come with me. You're going to stay quiet, and you're not going to cause trouble."

 

"Oh I most certainly am going to cause trouble."

 

Artemis grinned, showing off a gleaming row of impossibly white cat-like teeth. "I know. I'm so looking forward to turning you into a tidy little houseplant." She tilted her head, scenting his neck. "Maybe a cactus; you don't seem like you'd need a lot of watering."

 

Unfazed, Dean held his ground. "Thought you needed me safe?"

 

"Cassandra's getting sloppy in her old age - she failed to specify terms. Besides, she's a little busy making battle plans."

 

"Battle plans?"

 

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so naïve. This was only ever going one way; my brother must be stopped. Come." She gripped his arms tightly, her fingers digging into his biceps.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"Here."

 

Her voice went clear and metallic, as if he were hearing it through a trumpet's bell. Her eyes lit up silver, her hair flung outward with a sudden rush of wind. Dean felt his stomach tug violently in one direction then, just as suddenly, in the other. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and landing flat on his back.

 

Artemis smirked and with a roll of her eyes strode off beyond view.

 

Dean rolled onto his stomach to push himself to his feet, but froze in amazement. There before him stretched a remarkable camp; five enormous tents of striped cloth arched up toward the grey sky, bright splashes of color on an otherwise frozen and monochrome forest clearing. Arranged in a semi-circle they faced inwards, looking out on an airy canopy with an imposing wooden table.

 

It was then that he saw her.

 

She was standing at a table with a tall man - impossibly handsome and scarred, but he was not what captured Dean's attention. Andi was completely focused, her dark hair falling out of her low ponytail, Dean's plaid shirt peeking out from under a leather bomber jacket. The man said something and she shook her head, digging furiously through a stack of papers. Finding what she needed, she haphazardly pushed the rest out of her way and spread out what seemed to be a map. She poured over it, absentmindedly tucking falling strands of hair back behind her ears and shuffling her heavy combat boots. Suddenly she spotted something, sliding the map over to the man and tapping her finger on one particular point. He reached for the map to examine it for himself, and Andi leaned over the table to grab something else, her pants hugging the curve of her ass...

 

Dean quickly looked down at the frostbitten grass underneath him, pushing himself upwards and brushing off the dirt. He looked back over his shoulder - Baby was gone, and with her his shoes. His toes had started to tingle by now, light sparks of pain shooting up into his ankles and along his spine. Swearing lightly under his breath, he took off jogging towards Andi and the gathering group at the table.

 

"You're late." Andi said simply, reaching down and slamming a pair of boots onto the table in front of him.

 

A month ago Dean probably would have been surprised that they were the right size, but at this point he knew better. He sat down on a nearby crate, pulling on the boots and silently listening to the others' conversation.

 

The tall man continued his barrage of words, nearly shouting as he spoke. "We need to strike hard, and quickly. Apollo has already won over a considerable number of allies within the Pantheon; we need to take him out before he becomes too powerful, make an example of him to the others." He smiled broadly and ran his tongue along the line of his teeth.

 

"Once again, I agree. But we can't strike just anywhere. He knows who we are - he knows we're coming. Most importantly, he knows what we want while we still don't know what he's planning."

 

"If we kill him, we don't need to know what his plan is." he spat through gritted teeth.

 

"Come on, brother." Artemis stepped between them, throwing her arm casually over his shoulder. "Do we really want one less of us in this day and age?"

 

"Fine with me." Dean muttered.

 

Everyone turned to look at him.

 

"What did you say?" The scarred man drew himself up to his full height.

 

It had been several years since Dean had met a man this much taller than him, though judging from the red electricity ringing the man's pupils he was far from being an ordinary human. "Ares, right? God of war and general douchebag-ery?"

 

Ares snarled, whirling on Andi. "Who the hell is this puny human?"

 

"An asset." she snarled back. "Touch him, and I'll make sure you suffer for it."

 

"And since when do I listen to the pitiful threats of you little, bleating mortals?"

 

"Since you need their help, boy." A gentle voice spoke, a hint of admonishment in the tone. The effect was instantaneous; Ares stepped back from the table and from Andi, standing with his arms crossed, barely contained fury still blazing on his face.

 

Seeing Ares' immediate, though resentful, response Dean turned to search out the source of this new voice. Surprisingly he saw an old man, leaning heavily on an elaborate cane as he exited the largest tent. The man smiled at Dean as he walked - or at least his eyes smiled, weathered skin crinkling at their corners. His mouth was nearly impossible to see through the thick salt-and-pepper beard covering his face.

 

The grizzled figure sighed as he approached, turning his smile to Andi. "As a matter of fact, child, we do know what Apollo is after. He wants his father's throne."

 

"Earth-shaker." She bowed her head in acknowledgement. "I agree of course, but he cannot hope to make a claim."

 

"Of course he can. He is his father's son and he has a right to try for the throne, same as all of us." As he spoke, the old man looked around for a seat. Finding none he sighed, turning on the dark-haired goddess. "My dear, could I trouble you for a seat? My old legs..."

 

"There is nothing wrong with your legs, uncle." she said, rolling her eyes. Nevertheless, a collection of tree roots and vines pushed out from the ground beneath them, twisting and weaving into a comfortable looking chair.

 

"Ah!" He exclaimed, easing himself into it with a creak and a pop of the joints. Waggling his finger at Artemis, he teased "you've been spending time with your aunt, haven't you?"

 

"Earthshaker." Andi spoke quietly but firmly, her tone both respectful and insistent. She gestured toward the maps. "If we could."

 

"Ah, of course, child." He produced from somewhere in his linen over-shirt a pair of reading glasses which he shoved unceremoniously onto his face, blinking over the map with interest.

 

"As we all know," Andi began again, "Apollo has loosed Delphyne on the world once more. There are multiple accounts of attacks which fit her MO; Dean-" she raised her hand to recognize him - "Dean and I can confirm she carried out at least this attack in Kansas. It's probably safe to say she is responsible for the others as well."

 

"Awfully visible, don't you think?" The old man looked curiously up at her.

 

"That's what we thought as well." Andi glanced up at Dean. Seeing the silent, nervous question in her eyes he nodded reassuringly. She continued: "We guessed he meant to draw me out to confront her. Instead, we tried to strike at Apollo himself; but he knew we were coming."

 

"Or, he was too strong for you." Ares sneered.

 

The old man shook his head. "Peace, nephew. I suspect it was neither - Apollo has forged alliances with several gods and demi-gods. Even if you caught them by surprise you would not have been able to defeat them on your own. You were right to come to us, little one."

 

Andi slammed her fist down on the table. "Cut the act, Shape-shifter. You forget I know you. I know all of you. I am only here because I know we seek the same goal. We cannot allow Apollo to gain control of Olympus."

 

"So what would you ask of me, all-knowing seer, hmm?" The old man did not appear quite so feeble now. "Shall I do your bidding? Shall I - shall all of us - bow to your will? Do you think that since you cannot die you are divine like us?"

 

"Listen here," she spat through gritted teeth.

 

"No. You listen, child." He stood, drawing himself to a terrible height - old joints fading away into raw muscle rippling under his tanned and weathered skin, his salt-and-pepper hair blowing backwards in an invisible breeze. "We are the ancient ones, divine rulers of Olympus. You came to us for aid, and we have graciously given you a seat at our war council. Do not assume you even deserve to speak in our presence."

 

"I deserve to speak" she hissed back "because I have watched you and your kind for centuries. You are selfish and cruel - you care nothing for us, steamrolling us 'mere mortals' in your petty fights, no matter who they are or how much they honor you."

 

He laughed. "Is that what this is about? Do you assume that because you or another of your kind worship us that we owe you anything? We are gods - of course you should worship us. We do as we wish because it is our right. If a few idiots get flattened in the process it is their own fault for getting in our way. Each day you have is a gift - one we could take away at any time. Be grateful, and be silent."

 

Andi stood for a moment, her face red with rage. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath. For a moment she seemed as if about to speak, then she laughed bitterly, turning on her heel and walking away. After a few steps she paused, and looked back at the gods gathered around the table. "Every day I have is a curse - a mistake forced on me by one immortal trying to outmaneuver another. None of you deserve worship, much less respect. Fuck you."

 

The four watched her storm away in silence. After a surprised silence Dean leapt to his feet to follow. "If she's out, I'm out. Fuck you and your stupid little..."

 

"Peace, boy." The old god's voice shook with laughter. "She'll be back. She doesn't really have a choice."

 

"Oh? And why's that?"

 

Artemis smiled broadly. "This is what we do" she purred, "Andi and I. We live for the hunt."

 

"You don't know her at all, do you?"

 

"Why don't you go before you say something you regret, boy." The old god said gently, his eyes no longer smiling.

 

"Look, I don't know who you are..."

 

"Poseidon, dumbass." Ares spat, needing to add something to the conversation.

 

"Well that explains why you're so salty." Dean quipped without missing a beat.

 

Silence reigned once more. Finally Poseidon admitted, "That was well done."

 

Dean grinned. "Thank you."

 

"Now get out."

 

_____________________________

 

She leaned her head back until it knocked against the hard bark of the tree behind her. Cold and damp from the moss beneath her was beginning to sink into her pants, but Andi was beyond caring. Tears threatened to come, but she scraped them away with the heel of her hand. _Dammit. Not now. So close. So fucking close. I can do this...we can do this. It'll be over soon. It'll be over. Oh gods, let it be over._

 

It was too late - the tears were here. Andi closed her eyes and let them spill over, thankful that she was alone. _I can do this. Fight, remember? I'm a hunter. I fight. This is a fight. Come on. She slammed her hand in the ground next to her, her bones buzzing from the impact. Come on. Get up. Fight._

 

Her eyes flew open, ready, but she saw only empty woods. _Camp - I have to get back to the camp. I need this to be over._ Scrambling to her feet, she scanned the dirt around her, finding both the path back to the camp and a familiar pair of boots. _Shit._

 

"I'm fine." She spoke reflexively, monotone.

 

"Yeah, I know."

 

She allowed herself to look up into his piercing green eyes, but had to immediately look away. There was no pity, no fear or concern, no scorn - only a smile.

 

"We're gonna get him, you know."

 

She nodded.

 

"So what happened to you?"

 

"Minotaur."

 

Dean whistled, low and long. "How'd you get away?"

 

"Killed it."

 

"Nice." he grinned.

 

"You?"

 

"Not sure, some sort of ghost women. I don't remember most of it - woke up in the Impala."

 

Andi arched her eyebrows, grinning back. "That was considerate of them."

 

"Yeah, I guess." He gave a half-laugh, looking back at the camp. "How the hell did you get here anyway? I thought you hated that bitch?"

 

"A friend brought me. Well, I say friend...he's a temporary ally. I didn't know he was bringing me here. I don't trust him. He knows too much."

 

"Too much about you?"

 

"Too much about this whole thing, from both sides."

 

Dean took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. "We need to get out of this mess."

 

"You can, if you want."

 

"Andi, come on."

 

"I'm serious - let's get Sam, and the two of you go back to the bunker. I've got this. I'll be fine."

 

"These guys." He wagged his finger back at the camp. "You'd rather work with these guys?"

 

"It's not about what I'd rather do! This is big - too big for us!"

 

"Andi, This isn't our fight!"

 

"No, Dean, this isn't your fight. I've been fighting this fight my whole life - I'm not giving up now."

 

"Fuck!" He kicked at a tree, sending bark scattering everywhere.

 

They stood in silence for a while, staring alternately at the ground and each other. Finally, Dean spoke: "I'm not leaving you."

 

"Dean, just go. Let's get Sammy, and just go."

 

"I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone!" he roared.

 

"Why the fuck not? I've been dealing with it alone!" she screamed, bristling with frustration.

 

"Exactly!" he shouted, his hand reaching out and gently cupping her throat. "I know what..." his voice caught with emotion. "I'm not...I...damn it!" He spun away, kicking at the tree once more.

 

"Dean."

 

"What?"

 

"Thank you."

 

It was unclear who moved toward whom, but the two found themselves in each other's arms - faster than thinking, faster than breathing. Fingers running through hair, lips and hot breath, fear and desperation driving them, they clung to one another in the cold, clear quiet of the forest afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> More to come soon, lovelies! I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave feedback - I'm new to the sharing stories world, and I would love to know what you found interesting/boring/good/bad/too much/too flowery/etc. Love you! Yes you!


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